The Perils of Innocence
by avidbeader
Summary: AU. In an institute to help children with psychological issues, a child is abandoned by his guardians because he does extraordinary things. Rather than fear him, the doctors work to help him try to control this ability. They discover other children with these incredible powers. And then odd letters arrive one summer day. Rating will probably go up later. Eventual H/Hr.
1. Prologue

**__****Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing with what-ifs in the Potterverse.

This will be the start of an ambitious four-part series that starts before Hogwarts and is completely AU.

* * *

**_17 February 1986_**

It was just another Monday at Esperança House. Morning classes were over and the children were scattered around the large room that served as both canteen and lounge. A pair of aides worked their way across, slowly gathering bits of rubbish and wiping up spills from luncheon.

Mary caught Pippa's glance and tilted her head. Pippa looked in that direction and sighed.

"Your turn today, Pip."

She sighed again and deposited her handful of rubbish in the bin. Pushing her cap back on her head, she made her way across to the large picture window and the small boy who stood there.

She paused when she reached him, then knelt and imitated his stance, propping her arms on the sill and resting her chin on her hands. She spent a moment looking out at the snowy scene with him, simply waiting.

The boy raised one hand to push his glasses back up. Pippa mimicked his movement, touching a finger to her nose. She was careful not to look directly at him, but sensed a glimmer of a smile under his solemn expression. After another moment, the boy tucked a lock of his hair behind one ear. Pippa copied him again. Again, that hint of a smile fluttered across his face. He drummed his fingers twice in a soft staccato. She did the same and was rewarded with a faint giggle.

Now Pippa raised a hand and touched her finger to the light frost on the window. She drew a slow circle.

The boy copied her movement.

Her throat tight as she tried not to react, Pippa added eyes and a curve for a smiley-face.

The boy hesitated briefly, then followed her example. Before she could decide what to do next, he added more circles to give his face glasses. She smiled and took up the new game, adding curly hair and her cap to hers. He added spikes to imitate his flyaway hair, then drew a jagged line going toward the eyes.

Pippa paused, confused, and looked at him. He lifted the thick fringe and showed her.

Gently, trying to keep the connection going, she traced the thin scar on his forehead. She stuck her lip out in sympathy and the boy smiled faintly.

Pippa became aware that Mary and several of the children were watching them intently. Unwilling to let an audience spoil her progress, she held out a hand and tilted her head toward the hall.

The boy studied her carefully for a long minute, as if judging her intentions, and finally took her hand.

Pippa kept her song of triumph buried deep as she led the boy to the nearest empty playroom.

Once inside, she waved a hand around, inviting him to select something. To her surprise, he pulled out a board game. While the rules to it were fairly simple, it hinged on strategy as well as the luck of the dice and she would have thought him a few years away from enjoying it.

They set up the board and finally Pippa dared to speak. "What colour would you like?"

"Red, please?" The boy's voice was very low and hoarse from disuse.

She handed him the red tokens. "I'll be blue."

They began playing without speaking and Pippa quickly saw that the reasons the boy was here did not include problems with intelligence. He was a savvy player, challenging her as they raced to be the first with every token in the safe spot. She was vaguely aware that Mary was keeping the other children out of the room, and then aware of a white coat in the doorway, watching for a few minutes.

They played companionably and luck did favour the child as he got the exact number he needed before she did to send his final token home. He looked at the dice and up at her uncertainly. She smiled and said, "Congratulations!"

He gave her his biggest smile yet and moved his token. She held out a hand and he pumped it enthusiastically.

"Want to play again tomorrow? I have to go back to tidying up."

The boy's lovely green eyes lit up at that and he nodded.

"I'm Pippa, by the way. What's your name?"

The child shrugged. "Boy."

Pippa managed to keep her frown slight. "I don't think that's a proper name."

"Freak."

This time she couldn't keep the dismay out of her reaction. "Oh, no."

The child shrugged again, beginning to look upset.

"I know. Can I give you a name?"

He still looked unhappy, but nodded.

"Let's see…how about…Humphrey?"

He shook his head, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Bartholomew?"

"Ew!"

"Poindexter?"

His "NO!" was actually half a laugh.

"All right, all right. How about something simpler, like…Harry?"

The child stilled, his gaze turning inward as if trying to remember something. Pippa hardly dared breathe herself.

He nodded slowly.

"All right, Harry. It's a date. I'll see you tomorrow after lunch."

* * *

Pippa kept to her rounds but shared a triumphant smile with Mary. After she'd tidied the girls' hall, one of the doctors snagged her.

"Marvellous job this afternoon, Pip! Are you all right to try again tomorrow?"

"Yes, Dr Aymler. Any suggestions?"

"Just keep doing what you did: play with him, become a friend for him. If he keeps interacting with you we'll try and introduce Dr Greene in a week or so. But don't be discouraged if he takes a while; that he's finally spoken after being here six weeks is wonderful in and of itself."

"I don't suppose that family of his has gotten in contact again?"

The doctor's expression hardened. "Pippa, I have a feeling that little Harry Potter is now ours to raise as best we can. And good riddance to those people."

* * *

**Author's Note**: And here we go! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, especially Brit-picking. I will be uploading these chapters regularly but slowly in order to stay apace with my writing. Like so many of us, I have a busy life!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it's not mine. Just playing with the what-ifs of Rowling's world.

* * *

**_18 June 1990_**

Harry finished the book he was reading and shut it with a satisfied thump. He clambered out of his favourite squashy chair in the lounge and moved to replace the book on its shelf. As he did, he glanced out of the picture window at the children who were playing in the puddles left by the morning's sudden cloudburst.

A car was coming up the drive, slowly, careful of the children. It was the wrong time of day for the staff to change and it was a nicer car than most of them could afford anyway. Curious, Harry grabbed another book and moved to sit on one of the benches near the main entrance.

After a short delay, Dr Greene came striding forward just as the doors opened. From behind his book Harry could see a well-dressed couple, each with a suitcase. They looked around with a mixture of appreciation—the entrance was done up quite tastefully—and worry. Harry recognized that look: they were parents bringing a new resident.

And following behind them was a girl. She looked to be about Harry's age, with lots of rather frizzy brown hair. She had a satchel over her shoulder and clutched a stuffed dog in her arms. By the set of her shoulders she was miserable at the idea of coming here. By the haunted look in her dark eyes, she knew it was necessary.

As Dr Greene talked to the parents, she looked around. Harry continued to watch her over the book. She turned his way unexpectedly and their eyes locked. He froze, feeling something pass between them, a recognition. Somehow they were alike.

She seemed to realize it as well. With one glance at her parents, still in conversation, she came over and sat down on the bench beside him. "What're you reading?"

He hesitated, then looked at the cover. "_A Little Princess_, I guess." When she looked at him, he grinned. "I just got a book from the shelves. I wanted to see who was arriving."

"Oh." She shifted the satchel off her shoulder and onto the bench beside her. "So you don't read?"

"I do! Finished a Roald Dahl not ten minutes ago!"

She giggled at that. "Which one? I really like _Matilda_, and _The Witches_ was good, too."

"_The BFG_. It was all right. Have you read the newest one?"

"The one about the vicar? Not yet."

"Maybe we can get it from the library. There's an outing twice a month."

The girl's eyes lit up at that. "Really? Is there a limit to how many books we can take out?"

"Don't know. I've never gotten more than three at once myself."

They had gotten so engrossed in the conversation that they both jumped when Dr Greene cleared her throat. She smiled down at them as she addressed the parents.

"Mr and Mrs Granger, your daughter's new friend is Harry Potter. Harry's an orphan, been with us since he was five and he's one of our nicest residents. Harry, these are Robert and Viola Granger and their daughter Hermione. She'll be staying with us for a while."

Harry stood and shook hands politely. Dr Greene continued, "Now, normally I take a family on a tour and settle the new resident into their room, then go over the admittance papers with the parents. But I think I'd like Harry to give your daughter a tour while we do the paperwork, and then we'll meet up in Hermione's room. You up for it, Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be happy to."

"Meet us in room 18 in about half an hour. Hermione, you can leave your things here and the aides will move them to your room for you."

Hermione nodded and put the satchel with the suitcases, but held onto the dog. Harry gave her an encouraging smile and led her toward the lounge so he could replace his book. He noticed how her eyes scanned the loaded shelves eagerly. He began showing her around, explaining where the important things like the playground and the tuck cupboard were. Between her being quite sharp and him explaining things in the practical view of a resident, she picked up the layout of the facility quickly. They found her room with her suitcases ready and Hermione began to unpack, starting with the satchel that was full of books.

As Harry handed them to her she began putting them in order on a shelf. They were chatting amiably about writers they liked when Harry noticed someone in the doorway. He turned, reflexively putting himself in front of Hermione.

"So, Potty, whatcha doing in a girl's room?"

"Go away, Moffat. Dr Greene knows I'm here."

Moffat was a large and rather pudgy blond boy who sparked an instinctive dislike in Harry that went far beyond his bullying behaviour. Moffat leaned in and spotted Hermione. "Oi, new girl. Whatcha here for?"

"Leave her alone." Harry took a step forward, feeling that odd pressure in his head that sometimes led to one of his accidents. He tried to tamp it down.

"Why should I? Gotta be _properly_ introduced, don't I? New girl, I'm Piers Moffat and I'm in charge around here."

Before Harry could react, Hermione replied in a soft but firm tone, "I rather doubt that. I'm Hermione Granger."

Moffat frowned at her. "Hermione? What kind of daft name is that?"

"It's from Shakespeare."

"Whatcha doing with a daft Shakespeare name?"

"It's no more daft than the Old French form of Peter. Perhaps we should call you Petey instead."

The bully paused, unable to parse the shift in the conversation. Harry snickered, which brought him out of his confusion. He advanced with a fist raised. "No one laughs at me, Potter!"

As Moffat stepped forward, a floor lamp toppled over in his way. It clattered loudly and the light bulb shattered. Moffat's face turned pale and he shouted, "Nurse! Potter did it again! Nurse!" He turned and ran down the hall, shouting.

Harry blinked. "But that wasn't me this time!" The pressure in his head was still there, ebbing gently rather than vanished as if he'd expelled it.

He heard a sob behind him and turned. Hermione was clutching her stuffed dog as if it were a life preserver and crying. "Why? Why does that happen?"

He stepped forward, uncertain about what to do to soothe her. He settled for putting a hand on her arm. "That happens to you, too?"

She looked up through her tears, astonished. "You, too?"

He nodded. "Things falling over or moving, things changing…"

"Things I was looking for just appearing, stuff breaking…"

"Once I seemed to arrive in the kitchen in the blink of an eye. That was when my aunt and uncle left me here."

Hermione bit her lip. "A plate window shattered near me. I was mad at my mum because she was making me enrol for ballet lessons. The straps had already broken on the shoes and the barre had fallen from the wall. And when Mum yelled at me that I was going to do something to get my nose out of books, the window flew apart… I still don't know how no one was hurt."

Harry absently rubbed his hand up and down her arm. "It'll be okay. It doesn't happen to me very often here anymore. It helps to try and not be too mad or scared."

She scrubbed the tear stains from her face. "Thank you, Harry."

At that moment Dr Greene entered the room with Hermione's parents. She looked at the damage and then at both of them. Harry tilted his head slightly toward Hermione and the doctor nodded.

"Are you two all right?" At their nods, she pulled a radio from her pocket. "Room 18 needs a tidy-up, a lamp fell over and we have broken glass here." She waited for her summons to be acknowledged, then turned to Mr and Mrs Granger. "I think we're all set, if you'd like to say your goodbyes for now. Hermione will be in good hands here."

Harry joined Dr Greene in the hallway while Hermione said goodbye to her parents. She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, lamp?"

"Moffat was in here and started in on Hermione. He got mad and moved in like he was going to hit one of us. That's when the lamp fell over."

"And it wasn't you?"

"Definitely not. I still felt like things were building up."

"So we have someone else like you here. Think you can help her out?"

"Yes'm."

"Good lad. I know I can count on you."

* * *

Harry stuck by Hermione the rest of the afternoon. He led her to luncheon, chatting about the new canteen and how a full kitchen had failed to improve the undercooked peas. He gave her a chance to look through the books in the lounge and helped her carry a few back to her room. When she shyly asked if she could see his room, he led her toward the boys' hall.

Harry paused when someone called his name. Mary, one of the aides who had been there since before his time, trotted down the hall to him, waving an envelope. "I've a letter from Pippa!"

Harry brightened. "What does she say?"

"She's finished her exit exams! She'll be back as a full nurse next month!"

Harry cheered and hugged Mary, who swung him around. He turned to Hermione, who smiled hesitantly at his enthusiasm. "Pippa used to be an aide here. She was my first friend. She went back to uni to get her nursing credentials. Come on, I've a picture of her in my room." He seized Hermione's hand and pulled her along, unaware of Mary watching them with a smile on her face.

Hermione looked around as Harry went to his desk and picked up a framed photo. His room looked lived-in but not terribly untidy. His shelves had some books and a row of toy motorcycles.

He turned to her and saw where she was looking. He blushed a little. "I have this, er, dream, sometimes. I'm riding a motorcycle that's flying through the air. After I told Dr Greene about it, she and Dr Aymler gave me one for Christmas. It's sort of turned into a collection over the years." He plucked one down, shiny with silver and red. "Pippa gave me this one before she left."

"It's nice. I never collected anything but books."

"Not even dolls?"

She shook her head. "No, just books and more books. I always wanted to read more than anything."

"Reading's fun, but we do plenty more here. There's school, of course, although we just started hols, and the playrooms and sometimes people come and teach us crafts. We've got the playground and we get taken to a pool once a week in the summer. I think that's the next big project, now the canteen's finished, to raise money for our own pool." He held up the photograph. "This is Pippa."

Hermione looked at the photo of a young woman hugging Harry from behind, her chin on his head. He seemed to be two or three years younger, with black-rimmed glasses instead of the silver ones he wore now. The woman was in the same blue-striped apron and cap as Mary and had curly red hair. They both smiled out of the picture.

"She looks nice."

"She's brilliant. When I first got here, I had no idea that my aunt and uncle had just dumped me. I kept waiting by the window to see if they were coming back, not that I was sure that I wanted them to. They say I didn't talk at all for over a month. Pippa and Mary would check on me each day. Mary would start talking at me, but I just didn't see any reason to answer her. Pippa usually just sat with me for a bit, but one day she got me to come try a game with her and then she played with me every day and became my first friend."

Hermione blinked at how readily Harry talked about himself. When he paused to smile at the photograph, she zeroed in on the thing that had struck her most.

"What do you mean, you weren't sure you wanted your family back?"

His expression darkened. "At the time I was just scared. Scared of being left in a new place, but scared to go back. They…didn't treat me very well." He set the photo back in place and pushed his glasses up his nose.

She immediately picked up on his meaning. "Oh, Harry!" She darted forward, then paused, rethinking the impulse to hug him. Instead she seized his hand in both of hers. "I'm…I'm sorry."

He nodded. "The doctors here were great helping me sort that out. Don't be afraid to talk to them. Especially Dr Greene."

Suddenly self-conscious, she let go of his hand. "She's the one we met, right?"

"Yeah. Dr Aymler is the bald guy with the big walrus moustache. And we have a new one, Dr Takenaka. He's the Japanese one. I haven't worked with him; his specialty is kids with learning problems."

A bell chimed through the halls and Harry perked up. "Tuck cupboard's open. We should probably wait for the stampede to be over—" Even as he spoke, they watched a small wave of boys thunder down the hall. Hermione recognized Moffat, leading the way. Harry rolled his eyes. "They leave it open for an hour and have tea and stuff out in the lounge every afternoon. What would you like to do while we wait?"

"Can I see your books?"

* * *

**_19 June 1990_**

_Dear Pippa,_

_Congratulations on your exams! I kept telling you you'd do it and now you're a full nurse, just like you wanted to be. It's going to be so good to have you back._

_I told Harry the news and the child fair screamed, he was so happy. You have naught to worry about, he remembers you very fondly and can't wait to see you again._

_Now, don't fret. That doesn't mean he's been pining. Just today he's made a friend of a new girl that arrived. He was such the little gentleman giving her a tour of the place. And it was so sweet to see them hand in hand as he pulled her along to show her his room._

_Lucky thing that they've hit it off. I overheard Dr Greene talking to her parents and she's got the same history of incidents that he did. He's been very quiet for some time now, nothing since that Nurse Craig's hair turned blue when she was scolding him._

_Do let us know when your graduation ceremony is. I don't know who will be able to be there, but we'll try to have a showing for you._

_Much love,_

_Mary_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know, I said every two weeks. I'm sticking to that for the foreseeable future; just wanted to be sure I understood the process for adding a chapter to a story while I had time to concentrate.

Thank you so much for the great response to this story so far. Reviews are very nice to read and I welcome comments, especially Brit-picking.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing with what-ifs in the Potterverse.

* * *

**_20 June 1990_**

Hermione hesitated in the doorway, looking around Dr Greene's therapy room. It was perfectly pleasant, looking like a slightly smaller version of one of the playrooms: table and chairs, squashy chairs and a couch, a toy box with stuffed animals, dolls, and manipulatives that the doctor found useful when working with the children. Dr Greene sat at the table, glancing through a file. She looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, Hermione. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess." She came to sit on the other side of the table, arranging her hands and feet as if she were about to be asked to recite. Dr Greene picked up her tension immediately.

"Where would you be most comfortable? We can sit in the chairs, on the floor. We can even go outside and walk around while we talk, if you prefer."

Hermione blushed. "I'm sorry, I…er…"

Dr Greene reached over and patted her hands. "I'll let you in on a little secret." She leaned forward and whispered with intensity, "_There are no wrong answers in this room._" As Hermione burst into a nervous giggle, she leaned back again. "Seriously, Hermione. You aren't being tested. I simply want to get to know you a little and talk a little about your problem."

"But, I thought I was just like Harry?"

Dr Greene raised an eyebrow. "So you two have talked? Compared notes?"

"Well, sort of…"

"I agree that the two of you seem to have the same issue, but that doesn't mean you're exactly alike. I need to know about what happens to you so I can compare it with what I have on Harry and see if some of the things we've learned with him can help you. Think you can handle that?"

"I suppose."

"Brava, my girl. So, first I need to get to know Hermione Granger. Let's start by telling me about a typical school day in the Granger home."

"Well, Mum and Dad are both dentists. They open the surgery early and take turns going in so one of them can see me off to school…"

* * *

After three-quarters of an hour, Dr Greene looked over her notes. Despite her earlier assertion, it looked as if Harry and Hermione did indeed have the exact same problem. They would have accidents, where something might move, break or change. Those accidents almost always happened due to strong emotions: fear, anger, surprise and very occasionally joy.

What Dr Greene hadn't expected was for the two to have something else in common. Harry had suffered neglect and physical abuse at the hands of his family. The doctor suspected that Hermione was dealing with a different type of abuse from her parents, that of impossible expectations. She was precociously smart and had an incredible thirst for knowledge. Her parents had seen this and mapped out her life to be a well-rounded student who would be invited to the best universities.

But Hermione was also a natural introvert. She preferred being alone with her books to socializing with other children who weren't as bright or quick. And as her parents pushed her to broaden her interests, Hermione had resisted. And the accidents had begun. The fight over dance lessons that had precipitated enrolling in Esperança House was simply the most dramatic and destructive incident.

Her parents wanted the problem solved, quickly and quietly, in order to put their daughter back on her path of glory to Oxford or Cambridge. In their own way, they were just as offensive as Harry's family had been in their furtiveness, looking for the first opportunity to jettison an unwanted and problematic child.

But Emily Greene had a strong feeling that these two children needed each other as much as they needed the care that she could provide.

She looked over at Hermione. As she had relaxed, the child had begun to wander around the room and was currently sprawled on the couch, fingering a stray book she'd found in the pile of games. "What do you think about asking Harry to join us?"

She brightened and sat up. Dr Greene pulled out her radio and asked the staff to find Harry and send him in.

Harry arrived in less than a minute, almost running into the room. A dry "Hello, Harry" from Dr Greene let him know that she knew he'd been hovering nearby. She had thought long and hard about the almost scary connection these children had made and decided that instant mutual support now was worth the potential for unhealthy co-dependency later. If she stayed on the lookout, she could head that situation off before it became a serious problem.

She stood and waved Harry toward the couch and chairs. "I've gotten some of what I need from Hermione, and now I think it's time you share your experience with her."

Hermione moved to one end of the couch and Harry went to sit beside her, ignoring the chairs. Dr Greene sat in one, noting their body language. While Harry had certainly blossomed into an outgoing and generous boy since Pippa's breakthrough that long-ago winter day, he was still generally polite and wary around strangers. And what little she'd observed of Hermione had not pointed to her making such a close friend so fast.

She dragged her mind back to the moment as the two children looked at her expectantly. "Harry, can you describe for Hermione the physical feelings you have when an incident is building? Just like you've done with me."

Harry obliged, going into great detail of the pressure he would feel in his head. He compared it to the feeling of a balloon expanding inside his skull. He mentioned strategies that he had created with the doctors' help to ease that pressure, which would usually lessen the severity of an accident or occasionally prevent it. Hermione nodded a great deal, interjecting with "Exactly!" or "Me, too!" enough to convince the doctor that she did indeed have two identical cases of…whatever this was. By now the two children were focused completely on one another, talking freely as if she weren't in the room.

Dr Greene smiled and kept taking notes.

* * *

**_6 July 1990_**

Harry was at his window, watching the drive. Every few minutes he glanced over at Hermione, who had taken the squashy chair and was holding Sir Woof, her dog. Her smaller suitcase was next to the chair. She was staring into space and rocking slightly as she concentrated.

He knew what she was doing. After their first joint session, Dr Greene had quickly paired them up for sessions twice a week and Harry had shared more of his experience. One of his tricks was to distract himself by concentrating on something unrelated, such as mentally reciting the statistics of some of his favourite motorcycles. Hermione had chosen to memorize "The Owl and the Pussycat". So far there had been at least one time that she'd been able to delay an incident; the tree branch had still come down, but at least Moffat was no longer under it by that point.

He spotted the car as it wound its way up to the house. "They're here."

Hermione bolted to her feet, automatically squeezing Sir Woof. Harry picked up the suitcase. "It'll be all right. It's just a visit and you'll be back on Sunday."

"I know. I just wish they'd waited a little longer. I don't feel ready to leave."

He reached out and patted her shoulder. "Remember you can telephone. Mary put a nice big note at the nurses' desk phone for someone to get me if you ring."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I know. It's just…I know I'm going to really miss you."

"Me, too."

At that moment, Mary came into view, leading the Grangers. Their smiles at seeing Hermione were huge and she responded, briefly losing her nervousness and launching herself at them. "Mum! Dad!"

They embraced, then Mr Granger held out a hand. "Harry, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Harry shook hands and returned Mrs Granger's nod.

Hermione launched into slightly nervous chatter. "Harry's been wonderful showing me around. He knows **everything** about Esperança House!"

Mrs Granger said, "That's nice, dear. I must say you look a bit bronzed. Has our little bookworm actually been outside?"

"Harry and I built a tree fort! Dr Aymler helped us. We take our books or a game up there or pretend we're castaways or Robin Hood's men. It's great fun."

"Really? That's wonderful." Her mother responded to Hermione's enthusiasm with pleased surprise. "Oh, here's the doctor."

Dr Greene came up with a clipboard. "Here's the release form for the weekend. Please do ring us if you need, otherwise we'll see you Sunday afternoon."

Mr Granger signed and looked around, pausing when he realized Hermione's suitcase was in Harry's hand. "Well, concierge service and everything?" Harry smiled and followed them out.

At the car, he and Hermione hesitated a moment, then she took the plunge and hugged him. He hugged her back briefly. "See you Sunday."

He stood and watched the car until it was out of sight, suddenly feeling forlorn.

* * *

**_7 July 1990_**

Hermione came down to breakfast Saturday morning feeling depressed. She had had a nice dinner out with her parents, talking about all the ordinary things to do with Esperança House: the doctors, the nurses and aides, a little about the other children in residence, but mostly about Harry. But now she felt that she had shared everything with them and she was ready to go back. The day stretched out before her, long and empty.

Her mother began assembling toast and fruit for her, chattering cheerfully about how Hermione had made a real breakthrough being so happy about something and how yesterday had been completely uneventful.

Viola picked up Hermione's glass and began to pour juice into it. "In fact, you've made such progress that we'll probably be able to bring you home in time for school in September—"

The glass shattered in Viola's hand, spattering juice everywhere. Viola looked at Hermione, shocked at her daughter's white, stricken face.

After one frozen second, Hermione jumped up and ran for a towel. "You aren't cut, are you?"

She examined her hand. "No, just covered in apple juice. I thought you said you were learning how to handle yourself."

"I was…I am. I just…Mum, it's only been three weeks! I've only just started!" She scrubbed frantically at the table.

"But you said you were learning to control these impulses, that this Harry had helped."

"He has! But there's so much more to learn…" Hermione trailed off and closed her eyes, concentrating on her verses to try and beat back the pressure still roiling in her head: _They sailed away, for a year and a day/To the land where the Bong-tree grows/And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood/With a ring at the end of his nose…_

"But you have to return to school, darling."

"They have teachers there! Harry said they teach everything just like in comprehensive."

Viola's expression hardened. "And what do you think it will look like on your records if you have 'Esperança House' as one of your schools?"

"**Harry's** planning on going to uni!"

"**Harry** is an orphan and living in a care facility for children will not look odd on his record! Think, Hermione! Think about your future!"

The pressure got out and Hermione and her mother had to duck as the cabinet doors flew open and dishes shot out, smashing against the walls and table. Hermione heard her mother scream and fought harder to stem the tide that seemed to be pouring from her mind. In the background she could hear her father running downstairs.

"Bloody hell! Viola, Hermione? Are you all right?"

Switching tactics, Hermione began concentrating on Harry's trick of motorcycles. She couldn't recite specs and speeds the way he could, but she pictured each of his models on his shelf, one after another, remembering who had given him each one. The storm subsided and Robert stepped carefully into the room, looking aghast at the disaster.

Hermione burst into tears. "I need to go back, I'm not ready, I need their help…"

Robert pulled Hermione to her feet, checking for injuries. "Of course you're going back, poppet. We know you need time to get this…this thing under control. Who said you're not going back?"

"Mum said I should be ready for school in the autumn…"

Robert shot his wife a look, then helped her stand. "I don't know why you said that, Vi. We knew we'd have to be flexible when we enrolled Hermione into their program."

"But Robert, her education! What if—"

"Stop it! If we don't get this sorted there won't be any education to worry about!"

Feeling the pressure rising again, Hermione turned and ran. She pounded up the stairs to her room and flung herself on her bed, grabbing Sir Woof as the tears began.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'd fix it if I could! Why can't I **fix** things that are wrong?" She let herself cry out the feeling in her head, wishing desperately that she hadn't essentially exploded the kitchen.

She was sobbing too hard to hear the cries from her parents, watching in fearful astonishment as every broken dish and glass reassembled itself and floated back into its place in the cupboards, finishing with the restored glass of juice on the table.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Reviews are nice. Reviews that improve my ability to hide my American roots are especially nice. I also want to say a very heartfelt thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed/reviewed so far. I really didn't expect to get quite this reception so fast. Thanks.

ETA: Check out the lovely fanart by my friend **amandioka** at her Deviant Art gallery, which was inspired by this fic and fits this chapter nicely.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it's not mine. Just playing with the what-ifs of Rowling's world.

* * *

**_7 July 1990_**

Harry was finishing his eggs and bacon in the canteen, mulling over what to do with the day since Hermione was on a home visit. He could take some books to the tree fort and read before it got too hot, or even invite a couple of the boys up to play. He'd been ignoring Toby and Caleb quite a bit since Hermione had arrived.

As he put his fork down, he was seized from behind, hands cupping his glasses. A voice sang out, "Guess who?"

Harry pulled the hands away and turned around, a smile bursting across his face. "Pippa!" He jumped up and into the arms of the redheaded woman, who squeezed him fiercely. After a long hug they relaxed and stepped back from each other.

Pippa looked him up and down. "Let's see, you've grown another foot since I last saw you, new glasses, still haven't learned to tie your shoes and still haven't learned to comb your hair." She ruffled the black mess and Harry ducked.

"How about you? All ready for an official white uniform…and why white? Seems it'd be impossible to keep clean from the blood and messes in hospital."

"Smart-arse. See that you don't bleed, then." She sat down across from him and looked at his half-eaten food. She pushed the plate toward him. "Come, now. You can do better than that."

He obliged, picking up a rasher. "So, how were your exams?"

"Not too bad. The physiology was a right pain, but that was because the teacher was a wanker. But I passed them all. Now I get to do my practicals here and go for assistant practitioner."

Harry frowned. "What will you do then?"

"Take a bite out of our budget by replacing the need for calling in a GP when one of you lot has the sniffles."

"Really? That's fantastic!"

"I thought it was a nice idea myself. Dr Aymler is ready to kneel and kiss my feet for thinking of it. Now, your turn. How have you been?"

"Really good. I passed everything, ready for Year 6 this fall. I've finished all the Roald Dahl books there are and Hermione and I started reading everything by E.L. Konigsburg. We're going to try Dickens too, she's already read _Oliver Twist_, so I'm behind."

"Hermione? Who's this Hermione? You seeing someone else behind my back?"

Harry laughed. "Hermione's a new resident. She's with her parents this weekend. We've got kind of the same situation, so I've been helping her get settled here. And if you think I read too much, wait 'til you meet her! She took out six books at the first library outing!"

Pippa smiled and then looked up as Sushila, another of the nurses, approached their table. "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought Harry'd want to know. Hermione's on her way back."

"Now?" Harry shoved his plate away.

"They should be here in about an hour. Maybe less, no traffic on a Saturday."

Harry bolted to his feet and ran out of the canteen. Pippa turned a surprised face to Sushila, who shrugged.

"Inseparable, those two. They're making hearts melt left and right among the staff. He'll be at the window, watching for them until she gets here."

Pippa stood and absently picked up the remains of Harry's breakfast. "Amazing."

* * *

After considering her options, Pippa decided to give Harry some space. She spent the hour looking up other staff members, noting with pleasure that Harry was one of only three children among the thirty or so residents that had been there when she left for uni. And one of the other two was also an orphan. It spoke well of the ability of the staff to help these children deal with their issues and reintegrate into their families.

But when the hour was up, she looked into the lounge.

Harry was at the window, watching the drive like a hawk. A book sat tented on his favourite chair; Pippa noticed it was _Oliver Twist._ She found a flyer advertising events at the library and moved to the chair, tucking the flyer into the book to mark his place. She noticed that he hadn't gotten very far when he was normally a quick reader.

"Hullo again."

He turned to her briefly. "Hullo."

"So, this Hermione must be really something."

Harry kept looking out the window as he replied, "I'm not really sure I understand it, but I feel like I know her, like I really know her. It's not just that we both read or that we both have this problem. There just seems to be some connection, like I could tell her anything and she'd be all right about it."

"Anything?" Pippa's curiosity was piqued. Even though she had been the one to get Harry to open up and had known him longest, she knew no more than the hints the doctors had let slip about his home life.

"Yeah. I mentioned that my aunt and uncle weren't very nice to me, and **she got it**. With just that she knew and she understood and she was upset for me and mad at them and I didn't have to say another word. I've never gotten that feeling from **anyone**, like she'd charge into a lion's den to help me." He suddenly looked faintly ashamed. "I mean, I know everyone here is on my side and all, but this is different, somehow. And I think I feel the same way about her. I just have to be here as soon as she gets back."

Pippa blinked at that. "Wow, that's pretty strong. Have you talked to Dr Greene about it?"

Harry shook his head. "We've been concentrating on Hermione since she got here, helping her control her incidents like we did with me." He broke off, glimpsing movement through the trees before the car came into view. "I'll be back, I want you to meet Hermione!"

Pippa watched him dash out of the lounge toward the entrance.

* * *

Hermione had spent the ride in silence, hugging Sir Woof and looking out the window. She didn't dare speak a word; the frustration was just too close to the surface and the energy roiling in her head would erupt with it. And the last thing she needed to do was add fuel to the fire.

Her parents sat up front, also silent. The fear was coming off them in waves and it was about to drive her mad. Why had they been frustrated but supportive when she was breaking things and causing problems, but suddenly terrified when she actually **solved** a problem?

After crying herself out, Hermione had fallen asleep. Her mother had shaken her awake and told her to pack. Her father had rung and requested to bring her back to Esperança House now. As they headed for the door, Hermione had stopped short at the view of the pristine kitchen. "Mum! How did you—"

"**I** didn't. **You** did."

And with that they'd bundled her into the car and started back.

As the car followed the curve of the drive to the door, Hermione's heart leapt at the sight of Harry charging out to meet them. The pressure in her head vanished instantly and she unbuckled her safety belt and hopped out of the car the moment it stopped. Harry ran up to her.

"All right, there?"

"Better now. I'll tell you later."

Harry nodded and went to get her suitcase. Hermione noticed that her father had recovered enough to be amused and let Harry help. Her mother stayed in the car.

Biting her lip against a flare of hurt, Hermione followed her father and Harry inside.

She let Harry lead her toward the lounge as her father spoke with an aide. "There's someone I want you to meet," he explained.

Hermione recognized the woman at once but let Harry do the honours. "Hermione, this is Pippa who I told you about. She's back to be a nurse here—"

"Starting Monday," the woman interjected.

"—and this is my friend Hermione."

Pippa held out a hand, keeping the professional assessment of the girl's slumped shoulders and weary eyes out of her expression. "Harry was just telling me about you. It's a pleasure."

Hermione smiled weakly and shook. "Harry said a lot of wonderful things about you. I know he's glad you're coming back." She turned to Harry. "I think I want to go to my room, curl up with a book."

His voice full of concern, Harry asked, "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "You should catch up with Pippa."

The nurse took one look at Harry, at the worry in his face and the tension in his shoulders and stood. "No, dear, it's fine. Harry and I will have plenty of time for that. There's no getting rid of me now!" She reached out with both hands and ruffled their hair. "Go on with you."

Harry didn't hesitate, but Hermione looked back thoughtfully at Pippa as he pulled her with him into the hall.

* * *

They paused at the sight of Mr Granger deep in conversation with Dr Greene, both with intensely worried expressions. Hermione took a deep breath, handed Sir Woof to Harry, and approached them.

"Dad?"

He looked down at her and almost managed to hide the fear in his eyes. "It's all right, poppet. You tell the doctor everything about this morning. We'll ring you in a few days." He pulled her into a hug and Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes again. She tightened her arms around her father, trying to fix the embrace in her memory.

She missed seeing her father and Harry staring at one another as the man looked beseechingly at the boy and the boy nodded reassurance. But the doctor saw it all.

* * *

Harry carried Hermione's suitcase into her room and set it next to her bed. She flopped across the bed, putting her chin on her hands. Harry flopped beside her and rolled to his right so he could face her and waited, playing idly with Sir Woof's floppy ears. After a few moments she swiped at her face and rolled to the left to face him.

"Want to talk about it?"

She stared at the flower-print duvet and traced petals for a moment. "Have you ever had an incident where you prevented an accident? Or reversed what you'd done?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I remember pushing a laundry trolley out of someone's way once. And one time when the fire alarms set off the sprinklers the water didn't fall in the art room where we'd been doing watercolours on paper." He pushed the stuffed dog to her and she embraced it. "Why? What happened?"

"I had…an incident. Two, actually."

He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"The first wasn't so much. Mum started talking about school in September and the glass of juice she was pouring broke. But then we started arguing…she really wants me to get over this and get back to school and have everything normal again. And then the whole kitchen just sort of…exploded."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Exploded?"

"Kind of. The dishes and cups shot out of the cupboards like cannons, breaking against the walls, we were almost under the table trying to stay out of the way."

"Wow. I'm sorry. I don't think I ever did anything that…dramatic."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I finally got it to stop. I wound up thinking about your motorcycles instead of my poem and that stopped it." Before Harry could congratulate her she went on. "And Mum and Dad started arguing and I ran upstairs.

"All I remember is having that pressure still in my head and crying, wishing hard that I hadn't destroyed the kitchen. And then the pressure finally went away and I dozed off. Next thing, Mum woke me and said that I'd fixed the kitchen." She sat up, looking at Harry earnestly. "Harry, **it was perfect**. Every dish was whole, every cupboard full. You absolutely couldn't tell that anything had happened."

Harry stared at her, green eyes wide behind his glasses. "Whoa…" He sat up. "You actually fixed it all?"

She nodded. "Mum said everything just repaired itself and moved back to its place. And then…" she gulped, "that's when they got scared."

"Who, your parents? Why would they be scared?"

"Exactly! If we can fix the things we do, why is that a bad thing? But now Dad is more worried than ever and Mum stopped talking about school this autumn and they're afraid of me! I don't want them to be afraid! I need them!"

Harry scooted forward and gripped her arm. "You've got me. And Dr Greene and everyone here. If we can actually figure out fixing things as well as controlling them, we'll have this problem beat."

Hermione nodded into his shoulder, finding the comfort in his touch that hadn't been in her father's embrace.

* * *

Emily Greene went to bed that night in a very troubled mood. Harry had convinced Hermione to come find her at teatime and talk about what had happened at home. Mr Granger's description of dishes floating in the air and sealing themselves back together before sailing to their places had shaken her badly. Hearing confirmation from Hermione that she had wanted it to happen had thrown her into a complete crisis.

Dr Greene had a scientific mind. She saw actions and reactions, the dance of elements combining to create life, the rise of birth and fall of death in a never-ending cycle. Up to now she had been treating Harry and then Hermione as possibly exhibiting rudimentary telekinesis, which was the most rational explanation she had for why things might move or break around them. There was just enough serious evidence to satisfy her that this was possible.

But there was no possible rational explanation for dishes that mended themselves. There was no physical method for a glass to not only make itself whole but regather the spilled liquid into itself. It was impossible.

And yet two people confirmed it had happened. And she had no way to explain it, at least no way that was acceptable to a doctor.

Her mind did not let her rest that night, seeking answers that were not there.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I continue to be thrilled at the response this story is getting so far. I hope people continue to enjoy it. Letting me know via a review is very welcome, as are constructive comments and help on Brit-picking.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing with what-ifs in the Potterverse.

For a lovely little fanart of the first scene by my wonderful talented friend amandioka, go to my LiveJournal and check the tags for "perils fanart".

* * *

**_31 July 1990_**

Dr Aymler watched from the doorway as the two children in the playroom concentrated on the draughts board. Harry was staring at a black circle intently. Suddenly the piece flew up and landed beside the board. Hermione laughed at Harry's disgusted expression as he picked it up and placed it on the intended square. Then Hermione began to focus on a red piece. After a moment it slid gently in a direction, then stopped and would not move again. With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the piece the rest of the way with her finger.

The doctor stepped into the room. "All right, you two. That's enough. You need to go outside and play."

"We are playing," Harry said absently, studying the board.

"You are not. You're training. And we don't even know what it is you're trying to train yet. So stop it and go outside and run around the building or climb a tree or something."

"Yes, sir." Hermione began gathering the pieces and dropping them into the box.

"Hey!" Harry protested.

"He's right. It's a lovely day outside. Come on." She finished putting the game away and got up, grabbing his hand.

Harry let himself be dragged to his feet, sulking. Whether it was the flurry of new residents, Pippa's arrival or Dr Greene's sudden decision to go on holiday the previous week, everyone had managed to forget his birthday. He forgave Hermione, as he didn't remember mentioning it to her, but he was royally brassed off at the doctors and staff. Didn't they celebrate every resident's birthday? Hadn't Pippa remembered to mail a card and gift the years she'd been away? Not even Mary, who never ever forgot a date, had wished him a happy birthday in the canteen this morning.

Hermione was pulling him around the girls' wing, toward a garden area that belonged to the manor house since before it had been converted. It held little interest for most of the children. She led him to the entrance, two elegant stone pillars that separated the border hedge, and suddenly moved behind him and pushed him inside.

"Surprise!"

Harry's jaw dropped at the sight. People surrounded a stone table, draped with a cloth and laden with refreshments. The stone bench next to it held a small pile of presents. Harry turned back to a beaming Hermione.

"Got you, didn't we?"

"Yeah, you got me." He turned and accepted a hug from Pippa.

"I bet you were feeling quite unhappy earlier. Sorry about that. But Dr Greene said we should do something special for your tenth birthday and I recruited Hermione to help me."

As they moved toward the table, Harry turned to Hermione. "You. Are. Devious."

She smiled again. "It worked. And it was worth it to see your face. I've never been part of a surprise par—" She broke off, seeing a pair of adults coming toward them. "Mum? Dad?"

The Grangers looked down at their daughter. "We brought in the cake to save the staff a trip," Viola explained. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thank you, Mrs Granger, Mr Granger." Harry shook their hands and then let Pippa lead him off so Hermione could talk to her parents. She had spoken to them a few times on the phone since the shortened weekend home, but this was the first time they had seen one another. He did his best to concentrate on saying his thanks to everyone who was there: Pippa and Mary, several of the other nurses and aides, Dr Greene, Toby and Caleb, and Dr Aymler as he joined the small party. But even as he admired the cake he glanced at the Grangers.

From what he could tell, at least they weren't looking terrified of Hermione now. Robert had an arm around her and was listening as she described how she and Harry had invented what they called their "training sessions", working with toys in one of the playrooms. Viola still looked nervous, but she was listening as well.

As was the custom for birthday parties at Esperança House, Harry opened the gifts first while Mary made note of who had given what. Harry would be expected to write thank-yous within the week, a tradition begun by the now-retired founder. Since joint gifts were another tradition, it didn't surprise him that Hermione had gone in with Toby and Caleb to give him a new motorcycle for his collection. What did surprise him was an envelope from the Grangers and Hermione.

He opened it and looked inside the card. There was a gift certificate to Waterstone's for twenty pounds. He looked at them, surprised and touched. "Thank you!"

Viola said, "We'd like to have you join Hermione on her visit home this weekend and you can spend it then."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was nodding enthusiastically, and smiled at Viola. She hesitated for an instant, then smiled back. Hermione squealed and threw her arms around him, only letting go when Caleb started up a chant of "Cake! Cake! Cake!"

* * *

After serving everyone cake, Harry carried his slice over to where Dr Greene was sitting, a little apart from everyone else. "Hullo, Doc."

She smiled at him, but Harry noticed dark circles under her eyes. He sat down next to her. "For someone who just got back from holiday, you look knackered."

"It wasn't exactly a restful time." She gave Harry a considering look and took a bite of cake.

"D'you want to talk about it?"

Dr Greene smiled ruefully. "You're too clever by half, you know."

"No, I'm not. Hermione is, though."

"You're both clever, just each in your own way."

"Seriously, Doctor, can I help?"

"I'm just not sure about some things right now, things I used to be sure about. And they're too much to put on a child who just turned ten. All right?"

"All right, but only if you talk to Dr Aymler!"

She laughed and pretended to cuff him across the ear. "Smart-arse. How are you and Hermione working out with him, by the way?"

Harry shrugged, taking a bite of his own cake before answering. "It's all right. He's very laid-back about the whole situation. He says he's read enough science fiction that he thinks anything is possible."

Dr Greene snorted. "Is that all it takes? Perhaps I need to ask him for a reading list."

The tone in her voice made Harry a little uneasy and he had no idea what to say. He settled for staying with her and finishing his cake.

* * *

A few minutes after Harry let the other children pull him back to his presents, Dr Aymler sat down with Dr Greene. "Haven't had a chance to really talk since you got back, Em. Did the holiday help?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I made a point of talking to Mum's vicar, who handed me off to his area bishop. **He** was more concerned about the apparent lack of spirituality in my life than about my needing to explain things that seem to be happening outside of the realms of science."

"You didn't tell him about their telekinesis?"

"No, of course not. I was much more general about trying to come to terms with more things in heaven and earth than were previously in my philosophy."

"And he wasn't much help."

She shook her head. "How can you be so calm about it? It's not just telekinesis…that I could explain. It's the idea that actions can be reversed the way Hermione did to her kitchen…it's simply not possible for a plate to be whole again without glue, or for spilled milk to go back in the glass…it's like…"

"Magic?" Aymler's eyebrows waggled and he smiled behind his thick moustache.

"There's no such thing as magic!"

He shrugged. "Just because we haven't defined and measured it yet doesn't mean that it's impossible. After all, at one time everyone believed the earth was flat."

"And we believed the earth was the centre of the universe…" Her voice was derisive.

"And now we're on the verge of a technology boom that is going to leave us gasping and bewildered. I think we're going to live to see a time where there's no post anymore, because everyone will use electronic mail. No cheques, because everyone will pay by wire transfer through computers. No books, because they'll all be read on screen.

"Things change, Em. New things happen. People can do more and more every time they try. This just seems to be another of those things."

She shook her head. "It frightens me."

"It frightens me, too, a bit. But look at it this way. If anyone is going to have this kind of power, I'm glad it's those two kids. Neither of them has a mean bone in their body. Think about it…Harry's been here for nearly five years now and not once has he hurt anyone with any of his incidents. The worst was when Jackie Craig had to dye her hair back for a while to hide the blue. And if Hermione didn't hurt her mum when she started in on going back to school, she won't do so without extreme provocation."

Dr Greene looked at her empty plate for a moment, then back up. "Thanks, Pat."

"D'you still want me to work with them in session for a while?"

She nodded. "I think it's for the best. If they sense I'm afraid, it'll only make it worse."

His expression darkened a little in concern. "Don't avoid them, especially Harry. You've been his mentor almost since he got here. If he doesn't understand why we've switched, he might see it as rejection. And we don't want him regressing…remember how he was when he got here?"

That got her attention. "Oh, no, that can't happen! He's healed so much…"

"So sort out how you can deal with this. Believe, don't believe, study it and measure it, or wait and see what happens. Just do it soon, because those children need you."

* * *

**_3 August 1990_**

Hermione and Harry waited at the picture window, admiring the storm outside. Thunder rumbled, rain poured down in impressive sheets, and water ran off the road into the garden. This time Sir Woof guarded Hermione's suitcase and a holdall that Pippa had lent to Harry.

As the wind intensified, Hermione's expression grew fretful. Harry reached over and poked her to distract her. "Don't worry. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Mum doesn't like driving in storms. If Dad were driving it'd be all right, but he had to stay at the surgery."

Harry was about to reassure her again, but an unwelcome voice interrupted him. "So Potty and the Shakespeare girl are off, I see."

They turned to see Moffat standing over their luggage, holding Sir Woof by an ear.

"Put down my dog, please." Hermione spoke before Harry could. He didn't understand how she was staying polite, but every time Moffat or one of the other children tried to push her around, she began by being courteous about it.

"Think I'll keep it. It'll make a good extra pillow. For my feet."

Harry started forward, but she held onto his arm.

"He's not yours, he's mine. Please give him back." As she spoke, she stared fixedly at Sir Woof, rather than the blond bully.

Moffat began swinging the dog around, chanting, "Shan't, shan't, you can't make me, shan't shan't…" He tossed the plush animal in the air to catch it.

And at that precise second Hermione held out her hands and the dog flew into them.

Harry's gasp was drowned out by Moffat's scream. He turned and ran down the hall, yelling for the nurses.

"Hermione, that was brilliant!"

Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she stared at the dog for a moment. "Honestly, I didn't expect it to work that well. I was hoping Sir Woof would just move away from him." She turned back to the window. "And because you didn't fight him or go after him, you can't get in trouble."

Harry supposed he could see the logic in her approach, but still felt it would have been more satisfying to knock Moffat off his feet.

* * *

Viola Granger arrived, looking extremely pale and tense. As she signed the release form for the children, Dr Aymler looked her over and insisted that she sit for a cuppa before starting back.

The delay benefited them, as the storm moved to the northeast and the rain slackened somewhat. Viola drove with less fear, though she set a slower pace than most of the cars around her.

At one point after the dual carriageway narrowed, a lorry began following them closely. Hermione could see her mother's knuckles turn white as she gripped the wheel. Harry could feel her slow further, which annoyed the lorry driver enough to sound the hooter at her.

The lorry suddenly took advantage of a break in oncoming traffic to try and overtake them. Viola let out a shriek and jerked the wheel as the lorry rumbled past them. Harry felt the car begin to slide on the wet pavement. He grabbed the handrest on his door with the first flash of fear. Beside him, Hermione bit back a gasp, her eyes wide and her body pressing back into her seat.

Then he felt the familiar pressure in his head and, without thinking, seized Hermione's hand and hissed, "Think _safe_!" Hermione gave him one swift terrified glance and then wrinkled her brow in concentration.

The car skidded up to the lorry, then bounced off it as gently as if hitting a pillow. Viola, sobbing with fear, managed to steer it onto the verge and stop.

Hermione undid her safety belt and leaned forward to grip her mother's shoulder. "You did it, Mum. We're all right. We're all right. You did it. You did it." She continued to babble soothing words at her mother until Viola stopped shaking and began to assert control of herself. After several minutes of waiting for a completely clear path, she pulled the car onto the road again.

Hermione and Harry traded thoughtful looks several times for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Harry entered the Granger home and looked around nervously. He was so completely used to Esperança House that he was afraid to touch anything. It was like walking onto the set of a programme on the telly. He vaguely remembered being in a place like this, long ago.

Viola had stopped to pick up the mail where it had been pushed through the slot in the door. Hermione glanced at Harry and smiled. "Rooms first, then I'll show you our library." She picked up her suitcase and started up the stairs.

She paused, puzzled, as Harry walked past the stairs. A frown creased her brow as he stopped in front of the under-stairs cupboard, where her father kept his golf equipment. There was something bleak in his expression, where just a few moments ago in the car he had been cheerful. "Harry?"

He was reaching for the doorknob when she spoke, but her voice seemed to recall him. "Sorry?"

"Our rooms are upstairs. Follow me."

As he obeyed, Hermione's mind began to race with the implications of what she'd just witnessed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, reviews and feedback are very welcome!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_3 August 1990_**

Robert Granger treasured his Friday nights. He had a simple routine, established since his youth, that Friday night was for doing as little work as possible. Dinner was often takeaway of some sort, and tonight he brought Chinese. Hermione had observed during her first night home that the canteen at Esperança House did excellent Yorkshire pudding and reasonable curries, but none of her favourite Asian dishes.

After dinner, Robert would putter about in the garden, watch footie on the telly, or disappear into the library with a book. Hermione had learned early on that as long as she didn't pester him with too many questions, she was welcome to read her own book in the next chair.

His ritual included staying up much later than Viola and having a bit of a lie-in on Saturday morning. Tonight he had got lost in a new book and only now at two in the morning was heading for his bedroom.

He passed Hermione's door and Harry's, both pulled close but not shut completely. He wondered if this was the rule in their halls at the institute. As he was about to enter his bedroom, he heard someone stir and moan.

Robert listened for a moment, then moved to Harry's door. At the sound of more thrashing about, he pushed the door open.

In the light from the window, provided by the moon and streetlamps, Robert could see Harry, tangled in his sheets, and shifting about. He moved to the bed and began gently freeing the boy from the covers. As he did, Harry jerked away, crying out softly, "No, I didn't mean to! Don't, please!"

Robert paused, aghast. It wasn't just the words themselves. It was the tone, pleading and fearful. It was how Harry had curled up into a protective ball, shielding his stomach by drawing his knees up and covering his head with his arms. It was how he kept the pleading to a near-whisper, striving to stay quiet.

Robert reached out gently and jostled the boy's shoulder. "Harry, wake up! You're having a bad dream. Come on, son, wake up!"

Harry's eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Robert turned Harry's face to him, not missing how the child's instinct was to duck. "Harry, it's all right! You're not in trouble."

Harry squinted and began feeling for his glasses. Robert picked them up from the nightstand for him. Blinking owlishly as his sight cleared, Harry focused. "Mr Granger?"

"You all right there? That sounded like quite the nightmare."

Harry looked away and began tidying the sheets. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Robert was surprised at feeling hurt when Harry didn't look at him. "You didn't wake me. I stay up late every Friday. I happened to hear you as I was passing." He helped shake out the covers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry was still making a show of adjusting the duvet. "About what?"

"About the nightmare. It usually helps me to talk for a minute, get it out of my system."

"I don't really remember." The response was automatic and again Robert felt rejected. "Thank you, Mr Granger. I think I can sleep now."

He shoved his own feelings aside with an effort. "I think that it's safe to call me Robert, son. If you need to wake me or Viola, please do so."

Harry nodded and let Robert tuck the covers around him. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Harry. Sleep well."

Robert slipped into his own room and prepared for bed on autopilot, his mind worrying at this revelation, a parallel to his daughter's thoughts earlier.

* * *

**_4 August 1990_**

The next morning Hermione woke first. She padded down to the kitchen and fished a small carton of yoghurt from the icebox. As she looked in the cupboard for the granola to add to it, Viola came in.

She hesitated, looking around the neat kitchen as she remembered the destruction the last time she and her daughter had been here together. But she plastered a smile on her face as Hermione stood with a bag in her hand.

"What do you think Harry would like for breakfast?"

Hermione smiled, adding granola to her carton. "I've seen him eat everything…except kippers. I think eggs and toast and whatever will be fine."

Viola took a pan from its peg on the wall and set it on the cooker. "I think we have more bacon than anything else. Will you look and see, dear?"

Hermione gave her yoghurt a last stir and obliged. As she dug around, she squealed, "When did you get gooseberry jam?"

"Martha brought it in to the surgery last week. She found it in a little roadside market when she went to Wales on holiday."

Hermione passed the bacon to her mother and took out the gooseberry jam. She added two heaping spoonfuls to her yoghurt and stirred it in. Viola broke into laughter at her daughter's blissful expression with the first bite.

"There's a second jar in the cupboard. You can take it back with you."

"Thanks, Mum." As Hermione ate, she kept an ear out for any more signs of life above. Harry was usually up and around shortly after she was.

"Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Last night, did you see what Harry did?"

Viola looked up from whisking eggs to scramble. "What did he do?"

"When I said we should go to our rooms, he…he started for the cupboard under the stairs."

The whisk paused and Viola frowned at Hermione. "Perhaps he was thinking of stowing his bag there?"

"Before unpacking it, Mum?"

"Why are you asking, Hermione?"

"He said something once. I think the uncle and aunt he used to live with treated him badly."

"How badly?"

"He didn't say anything definite. But I think…I think it was bad enough. What if they put him under the stairs to sleep?"

Viola looked down and began whisking again. The movement got faster as she imagined the possibilities.

"Mum?" Hermione's voice, concerned and just a little frightened, broke her concentration.

"I'm sorry, dear." Viola concentrated on preparing breakfast and regaining her calm demeanour.

Until Robert pulled her aside after breakfast to tell her what he'd witnessed in the night.

* * *

While her parents compared notes in the kitchen, Hermione was showing Harry around the house and watching him like a hawk. He seemed perfectly normal, going through the books in her room and asking questions about the knickknacks she had from trips with her parents. That led to the library where the photo albums were kept and Hermione showed an increasingly wistful Harry scenes from vacations in France, Italy, Spain, and one particularly exciting trip to the United States. The Grangers had spent three weeks touring New York and Washington, and finished in Florida at Disney World. By the end, Harry was looking quite depressed but trying to hide it. Hermione thought it was time for a distraction.

"Mum? Dad?" When can we go to Waterstone's?"

Viola looked in on them, taking in the albums spread across the floor around the children and the downcast slump of Harry's shoulders. "Anytime, I suppose. Go brush your teeth."

Hermione hopped to her feet and seized Harry's hand to drag him upstairs.

"Brush our teeth?" Harry asked.

"Dentists," Hermione replied blithely. "Live with it."

Half an hour later they had entered Waterstone's. Robert headed for biographies, Viola for the mysteries, and Hermione led Harry to the children's area.

Hermione took charge, setting out books by authors she knew Harry enjoyed. She stacked them by price so he could budget his £20 most easily. As she was about to move on to selecting titles by new authors she thought he might like, Harry finally spoke up.

"Er…Hermione? Can I…can I look around for myself, too?"

She froze and looked at the rather enormous pile of books she'd collected for him. Suddenly her ears rang with the jeers from classmates at her school: _Bossy swot! Know-it-all! Teacher's pet!_

Her hands flew to her face. "Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—"

He spread out his own hands. "I know, I know you didn't. And I'll look at every one, promise! Why don't you look for yourself a minute and let me at the shelves?"

Hermione relaxed at Harry's suggestion and nodded. "All right. I'll be right back. I wanted to check one section anyway."

"Which one?"

"Dr Aymler called it 'esoterica'. I know he was mostly joking about us being telekinetic when he said it in session, but I thought it was at least worth researching a little."

Harry grimaced slightly. "Honestly, I don't care what it's called as long as we get to where we control it."

Hermione nodded in understanding and took off at a brisk trot down the aisle. Left alone, Harry began scanning the shelves with the feel of Christmas come early. He paused to look over Hermione's stacks and see what she'd chosen, then found the As and began reading the spines.

He had pulled out two or three possibilities by the time he was halfway through. He spotted the author Madeleine L'Engle on the very top shelf; he had heard of her, but Esperança House didn't have any of her books in its library. Without a stool or ladder in sight, he strained to reach it.

_Come on_, he thought.

And yelped as the entire shelf emptied on top of him.

A clerk came running. "What happened?"

_He looked up at the tall, thin blond woman, staring at him in horror and fury at the pile of cereal boxes next to him. He honestly had no idea what had happened. He had wanted a bright coloured box to show her, to ask if she would buy it and had hoped that this time, finally, she might say yes. The round blond boy next to her was smiling nastily, almost bouncing in anticipation, waiting to see what punishment would fall this time—_

"I didn't mean to!" Harry bent over and began gathering the spilled books hastily.

The clerk, a bespectacled woman with dark hair in plaits, knelt to help him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I really didn't!"

She smiled at him. "I know you didn't."

"I'll pick them up!"

The clerk faltered, suddenly feeling uneasy. She reached out and took his arm. "Dear, it's all right. It was an accident, that's all."

The word 'accident' snapped Harry out of it. He no longer saw the woman and boy in a market, but the clerk in the bookstore. Just then, Hermione rounded the corner into view. She took in the scene in one glance: the pile of books and the empty top shelf, Harry and the clerk crouched on the floor, the clerk's worried expression and Harry looking as if he'd been caught sneaking sweets from the tuck cupboard. She ran forward.

"Harry, are you all right?"

He nodded, though his eyes still seemed to be focused inward. "Had a little accident."

Hermione joined him on the floor, looking at the clerk. "We'll take care of this. Everything will be in order and ready for the shelf in a minute."

Her tone was so self-assured that the clerk rose and started moving away before she realized it. Rather than return and draw further attention—a few patrons were beginning to watch—she left the children to it.

Harry continued to gather the books and Hermione swiftly sorted them into order by author. As she worked, she asked in an undertone, "What happened?"

"I think I wanted to move one book I couldn't reach and it sort of slipped out a bit too strongly." He set a copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_ aside as he worked.

"I'm sorry." Hermione tried to think of a way to ask him about that momentary haunted look in his eyes, but nothing came. She settled for finishing stacking the books. The same clerk returned almost as soon as she was done and replaced them on the shelf by the handful.

Hermione almost resented her obvious hovering, but the woman smiled at them. "Nice work, there. You two need a job?"

She let the compliment cheer her as she and Harry sorted through possibilities until he'd created a set that would total just under the price of the gift certificate. Harry let Hermione stack them in his arms and lead him toward the front.

"Find anything in your section?"

Hermione made a face. "Not really. The couple that I looked through had all kinds of theories, but nothing in the way of trying to explain exactly how it happens. Just loads of rubbish."

Harry shrugged philosophically. "So we deal with it like we have been. Survive until it's sorted."

Hermione hesitated, the first question on her lips.

"Poppet! Ready to go yet?"

Hermione blew a stray lock of hair from her face in exasperation and followed Harry to the front of the store.

* * *

With a large number of residents home on weekend visits, the three doctors for Esperança House were taking advantage of the relative quiet to catch up on paperwork. They had taken over Emily's office and were correlating notes for the children who worked with more than one of them, looking for any gaps in the endless required documentation. They had two pizzas and several bottles of Guinness to ease the burden.

Patrick stopped for a moment and stretched. He glanced at the clock and smiled.

Joshua Takenaka, the third member of the team, noticed. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

"You looked like a cheerful walrus instead of a grumpy one for a minute."

Patrick stuck two good-natured fingers at his colleague and Emily joined in Joshua's laughter. When their snickers had trailed off, Patrick shrugged. "It's been over twenty-four hours and we haven't gotten a ring from the Grangers. I hope that means good news."

Joshua looked puzzled for a moment, then his face cleared as he placed the name. "Ah, your two little spooky ones. Is the transition going well?"

Emily looked down, feeling guilty, but Joshua's attention was on Patrick as he answered. "I think it's been a good thing. It's given them a bit of a new perspective and I'm certainly enjoying getting to know them better as we thrash this out."

"I was thinking about them this week."

It was Patrick's turn to look puzzled. "Why's that?"

Joshua dug into his briefcase and pulled out an advert. "This came in the post. They've updated the offerings at this year's BSA conference." He handed it to Emily, who was closer. "Look at Saturday morning."

She scanned the page. "You mean Tomas Ericsson?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "That man's a nutter."

Joshua leaned forward. "Possibly. And possibly his research into extrasensory powers may have some connection to your two, or at least suggest a path to try to help them achieve full control."

Patrick shrugged. "I'm already set on going. What do you think, Em?"

She wrinkled her nose and tossed the advert back to Joshua. "I suppose. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks for reading. Reviews and constructive feedback are nice things.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_4 August 1990_**

After a pleasant dinner, the Grangers found themselves at loose ends. A quick look at the BBC produced no programmes that captured their interest. With Harry as company, the adults were adamant that they weren't going to divide up and stick noses into books. It was Viola who had an inspiration, remembering the stack of board games that she and Robert had amassed and played with other couples before their practice took off and Hermione arrived.

Harry followed her up the stairs, curious to see what a real attic looked like. As Viola began pushing boxes aside, searching for the one she wanted, Harry looked around in mild disappointment. There were no intriguing piles of junk from decades past: no shapely dress forms for sewing looming in corners, no piles of old dolls with glassy stares, no open trunks of ancient tools glinting wickedly. This attic was neat and organized with stacks of labelled boxes. His eyes ran down, reading random ones.

_Toddler clothes – Hermione 1980_

_Rose-and-vine drapes/loose covers – old sitting room_

_School records – Robert, uni_

He paused at one that was written in a different hand from the bold block-letter strokes of the others: _For Hermione, from Grandma Miranda_.

"Mrs Granger, what's this?"

Viola stood up, a Scrabble set in her hand. "What have you found?"

"Something for Hermione from her grandmother."

Viola came over to him and read the label. She smiled, touching the thin, spidery writing. "When my mother was dying, she put together boxes like this one for each grandchild. Hermione was only three at the time, so the box just got pushed up here."

"What's in it?"

"I think it's her crafting supplies. She was a lifelong knitter and crocheter, never without yarn in her hands when she had the time to sit down. I only learned the basics. I think she hoped that Hermione might take up where she left off."

Harry brightened as an idea occurred to him. "Her birthday's next month, isn't it?"

"Yes, on the nineteenth."

"Maybe we can make this a part of it? Put together everything that's still good and add to it, like some new yarn if what's in there is too old and an instruction book. Mary at Esperança House knits, I think. She could help me get what we need. It would be so much better than just getting her another book to read!"

Viola paused, surprised at her own sudden and strong joy. Hermione's birthdays had been peppered with attempts to invite neighbourhood children and schoolmates and had never quite come off. It was obvious each year that most of the children were attending because their parents had insisted, and only wanted to have the cake and leave. Seeing a child not only think of Hermione's birthday at all, but spout off plans with his eyes shining made her want to hug the boy in front of her.

"I think that's a perfect idea. I'll bring the box down this week and go through it, then send you a note of what needs replacing and let you and your friend work it out. Will you need money?"

Harry shook his head. "I have a little saved up. There's usually a bit of pocket change coming from a few of the regular donors two or three times a year. And Mary and Pippa can go in with me."

Viola was trying to express her thanks to this remarkable child when Hermione's voice echoed up the stairs, "Did you get lost up there?"

* * *

**_19 September 1990_**

Hermione was in heaven. She could smell the rich chocolate fondant covering the cake on the table in front of her. She could feel the bright sunshine that made the day unexpectedly perfect for the outdoor party. Her eyes were almost dazzled with the bright colours from the pile of presents in front of her. She clutched Sir Woof to her to keep from squealing with glee. She'd debated whether eleven was too old for carrying one's stuffed dog to a party, but Harry had automatically scooped him up when he came to bring her out to the garden.

Her parents were chatting with Dr Aymler and Miss Fishman. Whatever the teacher was saying, her parents were looking extremely pleased. Hermione thought they ought to be; she had sailed through every placement test with ease and was already set to begin preliminary GCSE work. Harry was just a step behind her and they were both in classes with the handful of students set in Years Six through Eight. That suited Hermione perfectly, as it separated them from the odious Moffat several times a week.

Pippa sat with her notepad and nodded at Hermione. She drew the first package toward her as Harry began a chant of "Presents! Presents!" with the other children. It proved to be a book, naturally, from Dr Aymler and Harry's mates Toby and Caleb. She smiled at the boys and glanced inside the copy of _The Hobbit_ appreciatively.

"Read later, darling," Viola reminded her. Harry tried to help Hermione cover her blushes and pushed another package to her.

The knitting book happened to surface first. Hermione was slightly puzzled as she looked inside at the inscription: _Something new to keep your brain cells firing! Love from Harry, Mary, and Pippa_. She could understand Mary giving her something like this, having seen the aide teach a few of the children some simple stitches or take advantage of her desk time to work on her latest project. But she hadn't been expecting something like this from Harry.

Viola leaned forward and pushed the largest box toward her. "This one next."

Hermione pulled the paper off and opened the box. Her mouth dropped open at the riot of colours piled in the box. As she began moving skeins of yarn to uncover an envelope that had been partially buried, she paused to pet it, appreciating the softness.

The card was signed, _from your loving Grandma Miranda, your Mum and Dad, and Harry_. Hermione looked over at Harry in surprise.

"Your mum and I found the box in your attic when we were looking for board games. I wondered if you'd like trying something new."

Hermione frowned slightly. "But spending for all this? What if I'm no good at it?"

Harry actually rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you could never be bad at anything once you decided to learn it. But the only new thing is the book; your Grandma Miranda packed the yarn and stuff up really well."

Hermione stroked one of the skeins again, a pretty blue that called to her. "Mary, will you be able to show me sometime?"

Mary beamed. "Of course, dear. We can give it a try at the end of my shift, if you like."

Hermione smiled back and reached for another package.

* * *

Harry's prediction proved true, as Hermione had mastered the basic knit stitch after just a half-hour with Mary. With the knitting book by her side, Hermione was sitting under the strongest lamp in the lounge and working on a narrow scarf intended for Sir Woof. Harry was sprawled on the couch across from her with a book in front of him, but was actually watching her. Seeing the way her mouth twisted up in concentration as she tried to keep the stitches even made him want to laugh.

Hermione paused and held up her work, scanning the last few rows and counting the stitches. "Oh, bother!"

"What is it?"

"I dropped a stitch almost five rows ago and didn't see it until now. Now I have to undo all this back to the mistake and redo it!" She glared at the offending tiny gap in the scarf, frustrated.

Harry leaned forward and looked closely, unable to find the mistake at first. Then he gasped, seeing the yarn actually rearrange itself, a strand passing through another to create a perfect stitch. "Wicked!"

Hermione stared for a moment at what she had done, then dropped her work into her lap and stared at Harry. "But…but I hardly felt the pressure starting! I didn't even have time to fully think before it happened!"

"So, you're getting faster. And controlling it better. Remember getting Sir Woof back from Moffat?"

Hermione's expression puzzled him. She looked half angry and half frightened, with the first hint of tears in her eyes. "But **how** am I controlling it? I'm not like you, I can't just nod and be okay with it happening. I need to understand it."

Harry hesitated, feeling out of his depth, then tentatively reached out and covered her hands with his. He had a flash of sitting with Dr Greene with plates of cake in their laps and brightened. "How about you ask to talk to Dr Greene again? I think she feels a lot like you do, needing to explain everything about these incidents. And then maybe we can talk to her and Dr Aymler together. There's got to be a middle point between you needing to know and me just wanting control. If we can find that and go from there, maybe it'll help."

Hermione smiled, the threatening tears retreating as he offered his compromise. "I know everyone thinks I'm the smart one, but you're not so bad, yourself."

Harry sat back and returned to his book. Hermione picked up her knitting again. When Sushila walked by on the way to her station, she paused, smiling at the scene of content domesticity that the two children presented.

* * *

**_20 September 1990_**

Emily looked up from her work at the light tap on the door. She smiled at Hermione as the child hovered, not entering the room. "Am I interrupting you?"

Emily closed the file she had been working on and slid it to the side to emphasize her answer. "Not at all. What's on your mind?"

Hermione came in, almost tiptoeing, and sat gingerly on the edge of a chair in front of the desk. Emily had a vivid flash of memory, recalling her first session with this precocious child that worried so about doing the correct thing.

The trick was to get her to let go of rules a little and worry more about doing the right thing.

Emily filed that sudden little insight away for the moment and leaned forward on her elbows. When Hermione still hadn't worked up the nerve to say anything, she asked, "You and Harry didn't fight, did you?" It was the only thing she could think of that might have the girl so tongue-tied.

Hermione shook her head, still looking toward the floor. "No'm. Harry's the one who said I should talk to you again."

Emily raised her eyebrows at that. "All right. What are we talking about?"

"Harry said..." Hermione took a deep breath and tried again. "Harry said that you and I see our...incidents...in the same way. That we're both afraid of them, of what it means not being able to understand them or why they happen."

It took every last bit of her ability to control her expression, but Emily managed to hide the sudden rush of reacting emotions. The fear, because she still did fear this extraordinary power the two children showed. The pride and marvel over Harry's gift of insight. The fierce irritation that a child had read her own mental state so accurately and then shared it with another child. She managed to reply, "There is some truth to that."

"Is that why you and Dr Aymler switched?"

This time Emily couldn't keep from blinking at just how fast Hermione's mind worked. "We switched for several reasons, trying to do what was best for you two."

Hermione took the hint, but came back to her original topic. "I guess what I wanted to know is if you found any answers yet."

Emily got up and crossed to her door, closing it firmly. She then led Hermione by the hand to the bench seat under the window so they could sit together. Turning to the child, she said, "Tell me this first. What would you do if we never found a name for this?"

She felt Hermione jump in momentary panic at the thought. She also noticed several things on her desk slide a few millimetres, as if the desk had also jumped. She took Hermione's hands to distract the girl.

"That scares you, doesn't it? Now, what if we didn't find a name, but you and Harry learned to control it completely?"

"But if we don't know what it is, how can we ever know that we've fully controlled it?"

Emily considered that a moment. "Well, how is that different from other situations? Once you've learned how to drive a car, you may think you're completely in control of it. But one blown tire, the brakes failing at just the wrong moment—"

"Skidding on wet pavement," Hermione supplied absently, her eyes briefly turned inward at a memory.

"Exactly. Just because you've gained control, there's no guarantee that other factors won't interfere and cause you problems. Now, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't keep looking to identify what goes on with you and Harry. But Dr Aymler helped me to not obsess about it so much. You two have made quite a bit of progress so far and we can keep making progress until you're at a point where you've got reasonable control and we know you won't cause incidents because someone upset you or because a door slammed and scared you. And once you're there, you and Harry will be able to go on with your lives and just keep in touch with us whenever you need us." Feeling that it was the right time, she pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug.

Hermione relaxed, smiling, but suddenly sat up with a look of horror on her face. This time the desk clearly jumped several inches, scattering everything on it and knocking the small lamp over.

Emily grabbed her by the shoulders. "What is it?"

The child's face crumpled as tears filled her eyes and spilled over. "Where would Harry go?"

She had forgotten. Emily mentally kicked herself for that lapse. "He can stay here for as long as he wants, never fear that. We filed custody papers years ago when his family failed to get back in touch. They never came forward to challenge it and the investigation showed that they gave us a false name and address. There wasn't even an official record of Harry's birth to start from, just what those relatives told us. That was enough for the court to let us take care of Harry."

She rubbed a soothing hand on Hermione's back. "Why did that scare you so much?"

Hermione scrubbed at her tears. "Because. . .because I think they hurt him."

This time the hug was for herself as well as her patient, as Emily now had corroboration for what she had long suspected. Harry had let hints slip, but had managed to give the impression that it wasn't that serious and that he'd recovered from it. If Hermione saw it differently, then they needed to revisit the issue.

She guided Hermione to the washroom to tidy her face, then went in search of Patrick. It was time for some consultation.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I continue to be in awe at the number of people who are reading, who have followed/favorited, and who have taken the time to leave a comment or feedback. Thank you so much!


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_30 September 1990_**

Patrick waited in his therapy room, fretfully playing with a Newton's Cradle that had been a gift several years ago from one of his first patients. He started the rhythmic clacking with a different number of balls each time: one, two, four, three, four, one, two. He had just gotten into dropping a ball from each side simultaneously when Emily came in, leading the Grangers.

"Harry and Hermione are putting their things away and Mary will provide a diversion with a few knitting books to show Hermione." She invited Robert and Viola to sit. They chose to sit together on Patrick's classic Freudian divan. He took his comfy recliner, which left the wing chair for Emily.

Patrick leaned forward. "How did this weekend go?"

Robert and Viola looked at one another, and she nodded to him. He drew a breath and began. "We didn't have the automatic move to go into the under-stairs cupboard this time, but then this was Harry's second time there and he knew the ropes. He did have nightmares both nights. We set up the baby monitors we bought with one in our bedroom and the other in the guest room behind a set of books. We could hear him moving around and crying out, mostly along the lines of "don't, please" and "I didn't mean to". I went in the first night to soothe him and before he was quite awake he shied away from me. Once he was awake he was quick to shrug it off. He tried to joke that someone must have died in the room once and perhaps he should sleep on the couch. He clearly didn't want to talk about it."

Viola nodded, holding back tears. "I went to wake him last night. He instinctively jerked away from me before he woke. When he started to wake up, he didn't seem quite so physically afraid, like I was going to hit him, but it was almost terrifying how quiet he was being. It was as if he was desperate not to cause any disturbance—"

"And then I stuck my head in the door to ask if I could help—"

"That's when the whole house shook to its foundations."

Both doctors sat up at that. Emily automatically asked, "Was anyone hurt?"

Both the Grangers shook their heads. Robert continued, "I was in Chile once years ago, doing some volunteer work during my uni. They have earth tremors and quakes on a regular basis. This felt like a moderate quake, but it only lasted a few seconds. Things slid around on tables and shelves, but very few things actually fell over. And it stopped the second Harry realized it was us."

Emily and Patrick exchanged looks. Patrick scrubbed hid fingers through his moustache before speaking. "The question is, why now? We had issues back when Harry arrived. He didn't speak for six weeks until Pippa made her breakthrough. When he began therapy he was very closemouthed about his aunt and uncle, though he would talk about how his cousin bullied him."

Emily nodded. "I got him to the point where he would agree that his uncle hit him, but he'd never offer the accusation. And around that time the incidents stepped up and thoroughly distracted us. Since Harry showed no obvious signs of trauma, it fell off our radar."

Viola suddenly straightened as a thought occurred to her. "When was the last time Harry stayed somewhere out of the clinic before visiting Hermione?"

Patrick looked at Emily. She replied, "Never. He's never been invited on a home visit with any of his other friends."

Viola charged forward, sensing a solution. "So the two visits to our house are the only times he's been away from a hospital since he arrived here." She noted how both Emily and Patrick bristled slightly at that. "Forgive me, both of you. I know you work hard to make this a pleasant setting for the children, but it's still an institution. It's not a family home. If August was the first time Harry has been in a house since he left the one where he was abused, that may be the answer for 'why now?' It explains why he went straight to the cupboard, if that's where those horrible people kept him. It explains why he only has nightmares there and not here. He knows 'here' is safe."

Now both doctors were nodding. Emily was taking notes to add to Harry's file. Patrick looked at Robert. "It might also explain why Harry reacted so strongly to you but not as much to Viola. Perhaps his uncle was the one to strike him while the aunt went for isolating him. Either way there was obviously a cardinal rule about not making noise or fuss, with Harry trying so hard to stay quiet."

Emily nodded. "It fits with the physical evidence. Harry arrived here badly malnourished and extremely pale, as if his outdoor exposure was limited. He spoke of backaches for a while once he began talking, which made me think that the uncle went for his kidneys. But the man was careful—the only scar Harry has is that one on his forehead. He was careful not to whip or tie him or strike his face, which would have left more evidence.

"And for months Harry was very contained in his movements. There was very little running full-tilt or flopping around or just spreading out on a couch. That lends itself to the idea of being imprisoned under the stairs."

Viola burst out, "Didn't you file charges?"

"We were planning to, but we sued for delinquent payments first when their deposit ran out. And that's when we learned that James and Lily Jones of Croydon don't exist. Harry wasn't speaking yet and all the police had were our descriptions of the couple, and all told, it wasn't enough for them to get anywhere. Harry was now in a safe environment, it was obvious that his aunt and uncle weren't coming back, and that's all that mattered to the court. They awarded us custody when we requested it."

Robert asked, "So what happens now? Obviously you need to help Harry work through these issues once and for all if he's ever going to rejoin society fully."

Patrick looked over at Emily. "I think a little divide-and-conquer is called for. I'll keep working with both kids together on the incidents issue. You start working with them separately, making it look very casual at first, and we'll get Harry back into regular therapy with you without making it look like therapy. You were the one to work with him initially."

Emily nodded. "I like it. I'd also like to ask if the home visits can continue on a regular basis. That way we have openings to bring this back into discussion with Harry and it will help him acclimate to the idea that not every home is dangerous."

Both Grangers smiled at the thought of more regular visits home for their daughter. Harry would be an easy enough guest and they would be helping him finally heal from the experiences of his childhood.

* * *

**_18 October 1990_**

Harry glanced around the classroom, feeling the eyes of someone on him. Sure enough, Hermione had been looking at him rather than at her maths. She reddened slightly and returned to her work. He returned to his own, but the feeling of being watched persisted—he almost expected to see Dr Greene in the doorway when he looked up again. He ground his teeth against it and tried to focus on the numbers in front of him.

He knew he'd failed when the large framed conversion chart between the imperial and metric systems slid down the wall and crashed onto the floor, splintering the wooden frame.

Everyone else in the room jumped and Miss Fishman turned her large blue eyes away from the student she had been helping. She zeroed in on Harry's guilty expression.

"Mr Potter, what is the matter?"

A couple of the older students sniggered behind their hands and Hermione reached across the aisle to grip Harry's arm. This made more of the boys laugh harder, while the two girls in the class softened and one actually let out a quiet "aww".

Harry shoved Hermione's hand away brusquely and stood. He was desperate to get away from the audience and even more desperate to get away from Hermione for a moment. He could sense her confusion and pain at being rejected. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I need to be excused." He left the room and walked swiftly down the hall to the playground exit. He fought the twin urges in his head and chest to break into a run—running would get him noticed faster than anything else.

Once outside, he took off, running across the empty playground to the tree fort. He climbed up and crawled inside, huddling in one corner for warmth on the chilly day. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as he concentrated on his litany of motorcycle statistics to try and ease the pressure in his head. He felt the tree sway under him and redoubled his efforts, switching to try and remember Hermione's poem instead. The tree stilled, but now the pressure in his chest, the urge to cry, was nearly unbearable.

He'd been snappish and rude to Hermione for days now, ever since she had woken him up from a nightmare during their last visit to her home. The look on her face had been so sad and her pity had stung him fiercely. Her laying a hand on him in the classroom was the last straw. She was his best friend, she relied on him to show her the way to manage their problems. He couldn't take it if she found him pitiful.

He felt the pressure building in his head again and the tree responded by swaying once more. Frantic to get it out, he moved to the window and tried to thrust the feeling into the cloudy sky.

He felt the pressure leave and sighed in relief. Then the ache in his heart turned to fear as he saw a shining golden explosion of stars burst from nowhere like a firework. It was easily as big as a lorry, lighting up the sky briefly.

Below him, silhouetted in the golden light, was Hermione.

Hermione put Harry's coat on over her own so she could climb safely, then scaled the ladder to the tree fort. Harry had retreated to his corner again with his knees drawn up and his head on his arms. She crawled to him and took his coat off to wrap around him.

"Harry?"

His only response was sniffling and she knew he was crying.

"Harry, I want to help. Please let me help."

"Leave me alone!" His jumper-clad arms robbed his words of their force.

"No. That's the last thing you need. If I leave you alone, next time you might hit a plane and hurt people."

That froze Harry. He had come outside to try and keep from hurting anyone, but the power he'd expended could have hurt others, people with no connection to him at all. He looked up in terror, and Hermione moved in and put her arms around his shoulders.

"Harry, what did your aunt and uncle do to you?"

He jerked in her arms, but she held on firmly. "You need to talk about it. Really talk about it, not just shrug and say it's over, you survived. Ever since you first came home with me, you've been having trouble controlling your incidents. You've had a bad dream every night you stayed in my house and you've started having them here as well, haven't you?"

"I can handle it!" Harry tried again to pull away. "I can do it! I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me! It's over and nothing will change it!"

Hermione sat back on her heels, gaping at him. "Feel sorry for you?" Her voice rose shrilly. "**Feel sorry for you**_?_ Why in the world would you think I feel sorry for you?"

It was Harry's turn to gape as Hermione built up steam. Neither child noticed the sounds of something falling nearby.

"Just because I'm sorry that it happened and want to help you get over it does not mean that I feel **sorry for you**. It means I'm your friend and I love you and I want you to be happy and not haunted by what happened when you were little. Dr Greene doesn't feel sorry for you, she wants to help. Dr Aymler wants to help. Pippa and Mary want to help. My parents want to help. We don't think it was your fault and we don't think you're weak or pitiful. We think those monsters are pitiful, since they thought it was all right to hurt a child, but we love you. It wasn't your fault—"

"Yes, it was!" Harry interrupted, glaring at her. "It was my fault! I'd make things fall or break, I couldn't keep it under control—"

Hermione leaned forward again, seizing his jumper and pulling him to her. "Don't you dare! Don't you **dare** say it was you! What did my parents do when I started making things happen? Did they hit me? Did they shut me up under the stairs? Did they?"

Harry whispered in shock, "How did you—" but Hermione barrelled on.

"No, they didn't! They tried to find an answer! They went to our doctor and then a counsellor and then brought me here because they wanted to help me! They didn't dump me here like some nasty rubbish that needed to be got out of the house! It's your aunt and uncle who were wrong, Harry, not you. **Never **you."

As she ran out of breath, Hermione saw the fresh tears spilling out of Harry's eyes and flung herself on him. This time she held him as he cried, murmuring soothing nonsense and rocking him back and forth.

"Harry? Hermione?"

Hermione moved to the window and Harry seized the chance to wipe his face and glasses with the sleeve of his jumper.

"Hi, Dr Aymler, we're up here!" she called down.

"Think you've got each other calmed down now? We had quite the jolt a few minutes ago."

"Oh, no! Did we hurt anything?"

"Knocked a few things over. Nothing important. The important question is…" he made a show of looking up and down the tree, "…how are you two going to get down? You've shaken off the ladder rungs."

Harry looked out the door and saw the scattered pile of slats that had been nailed up the trunk. It wasn't terribly far to the ground, but still high enough that just jumping wasn't a good idea.

Or was it? He looked over at Hermione. "Do you trust me?"

She looked back. "Of course. Why?"

"Remember when we bounced your mum's car away from the lorry?"

She followed his gaze down to the ground. "Are you sure?"

"I am if you help me."

She took a deep breath. "How do we do it?"

"Take my hand and just think about _safe_ _landing_. Then we'll jump down."

She gulped, but took his hand and they moved to the door. They paused for a minute, eyes closed in fierce concentration.

Patrick had moved around when Hermione disappeared from the window of the fort. He saw them poised at the door and realized what they were about to do. Just as he shouted, "NO!" they jumped.

He froze in mid-stride as the two children appeared to bounce on an invisible cushion, just like stuntmen, then land on their feet, giggling breathlessly. And for the first time, Patrick had a taste of the fear Emily had experienced, with the unexplainable directly in his face.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, still laughing. "That was fun!" Hermione exclaimed.

Patrick had got over his initial shock and ran to them, gathering them together in a relieved embrace. "That was astounding. Never, ever do it again!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

Also, a word in advance – due to stresses both work- and holiday-related, I may need to hold off on the next update until after Christmas. Don't want to, but may need to in order to make sure I meet all my obligations.

* * *

**_3 November 1990_**

It was quiet…too quiet. Robert Granger realized that there had been no noise from the children for some time. They had gone upstairs after lunch and he and Viola had got involved in preparing a pair of garden flowerbeds for the coming winter. Hermione was certainly capable of entertaining herself for hours at a time with her books and Harry had so far been a good guest other than the nightmares, which had decreased over the last couple of visits. But it worried Robert that he had not heard a single sound from them in ages.

As he climbed the stairs, quiet giggles floated down to him. He cautiously moved down the hall, listening as he approached Hermione's room. He could hear the children moving around. As he neared the door he heard Harry call out, "Keep it going!" followed by a loud thump, as if something had fallen, and then identical groans from the children.

Robert moved into the doorway to see Hermione scrambling to her feet. "Let's try it again! That last time had to have been at least five minutes!"

Harry held out a hand and Sir Woof flew toward him. But instead of catching the stuffed dog, it seemed to rebound from his hands and toward Hermione, who held her hands out then up, sending it back. They fell into a rhythm, moving the toy back and forth without actually touching it.

Robert watched, entranced at their joyous play, until Hermione noticed him and lost her concentration. Sir Woof flew into her face and she caught it clumsily. "Dad! Did you see?"

He stepped into the room, smiling at his daughter. "I did! How are you doing it?"

Harry replied, "We knew we could ask something to come to us—Hermione did that when one of the boys tried to take Sir Woof away from her—and we wondered if we could try sending something as well. We've been able to keep it going for ages now."

Robert ruffled Harry's hair. "Well done. Why don't you try it in the back garden so you have room to move? The fence is high enough that you shouldn't be seen."

He followed the eager children downstairs and joined Viola in the kitchen as she scrubbed earth from her hands. They watched as Hermione and Harry began their game again. He noticed her biting her lip and put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "All right there?"

She reached up and squeezed his hand. "Approaching it."

* * *

**_23 November 1990_**

Patrick enjoyed conferences. He liked the chance to see friends and acquaintances, hear new information, and to be catered to by the salesmen in the vendors' hall. For him, such events were justifiable little vacations from routine.

Emily felt the opposite. She thought reading the latest journals was good enough for keeping abreast of things. She found conferences a nuisance and interruption, taking her away from her young patients. But faced with Harry and Hermione's situation as well as obstacles with a few other children, they agreed that it was time to seek fresh perspectives.

The conference might have been in the gaudy playground of Blackpool, but the hotel was sleek and soothing. Patrick and Emily were taking advantage of the previous session ending a few minutes early to stop by the hotel café.

The two doctors found a small table and set their folders and tea down. Emily shrugged off her jacket. "Why must they always heat these buildings so? I didn't pack for a tropical vacation."

Patrick rolled his eyes. It amused him that Emily was never a hundred per cent comfortable. "Shall I go fetch you some ice water instead?"

She shook her head. "No. We only have a few minutes before the next presentation and I don't want to miss it."

"We won't. The word is that Ericsson is half-barmy and half-sensationalist. I doubt his session will have more than a dozen attendees."

"Even so, if there's any chance at all that his research will help us with our two, we need to hear what he has to say."

They gulped their tea and gathered their things. In their haste, neither of them noticed the woman who rose to follow them.

* * *

"I knew it would be a waste of time," Patrick groused.

Emily nodded gloomily. "It was always a longshot, but I hoped he'd have at least some hints or suggestions. Your description of half-barmy needs to be adjusted to completely mental."

"What did you think of that one woman's question?"

"The Indian woman?" At Patrick's nod, Emily shrugged. "Grasping at straws, really. I'm certainly not going to put Harry or Hermione through a battery of MRIs and compare their brains to see if there's a difference. They're getting better at controlling their ability, and that's the important thing."

"How do they do it?"

Emily gave a little shriek as she and Patrick jumped. They turned to find the woman in question behind them. Her eyes flickered from one to the other, examining them closely.

Patrick spoke first. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your children. How do they control their…ability?"

Emily and Patrick looked at one another uneasily. "If you don't mind my asking, you are…?"

The woman held out a hand, her body still rigid with tension. "Doctor Chandra Misra. I have a family practice in Newham, London East End."

Patrick took her hand and shook. "Patrick Aymler. This is Emily Greene. We work at Esperança House up in Coventry."

"I've heard of it. You're doing wonderful work up there." She paused, uncertain, then took a deep breath. "Did I hear you say you have two of them?"

Emily jumped in before Patrick could answer, eager to keep Harry and Hermione out of the conversation. "Two of what, Dr Misra?"

"Children who can…do things." When neither of them answered her, the woman's face crumpled. "I simply don't know what to do! The poor boy's mother brings him to me nearly every fortnight! She's pulled him out of football, she won't let him play videogames…he's practically a prisoner in his home because she's terrified that the next time he does something it'll be more than a trinket falling off a shelf or a table tipping over. And she won't stop asking for more and more invasive tests…"

Patrick and Emily shared a look. Then Patrick asked, "Has he described how he feels when this happens? Physically or emotionally?"

"I…I'm not sure. He's mentioned arguing with his siblings – he's the oldest of five – or his parents before it happens."

The two colleagues looked at one another again. This time Emily spoke. "Do you think his parents would consent to a stay in our facility?"

The hope in the woman's eyes almost shamed their caution. "Certainly they would! Mrs Thomas is pressing me to put him in a psychiatric ward at home, but he's as sane as sane can be. He just has these…"

"Incidents?" Patrick and Emily had spoken as one. They looked at one another again and laughed.

Dr Misra repeated wonderingly, "Incidents." She began to laugh as well.

* * *

Emily almost regretted the invitation to the Thomases when a single call from Dr Misra had the Thomas family asking to bring their son that very evening. They arranged for him to come the next day. Patrick drove them back to Coventry. They parked and went inside, looking for Harry and Hermione.

It was dinnertime and most of the residents were in the canteen. Emily spotted Harry's black head first – he was sitting next to Toby and across from Hermione. She paused for a moment, feeling regretful. Harry and Hermione had made an effort to include Toby more since Caleb had gone home, but now they would have young Dean Thomas joining them. It was all too easy to predict how the dynamic would shift again and leave Toby on the outside looking in. She made a mental note to give Toby some extra attention and perhaps see if he might find a few of the other children acceptable playmates.

As she approached, Hermione spotted her first and immediately tugged on Harry's arm. They excused themselves to Toby and ran to her.

"How was it?" Hermione's eyes were shining with eagerness at the thought of great minds communing together.

"The conference was a conference. Some good stuff, some useless stuff. But we need to talk to you two for a minute."

Both children were instantly alert and followed her to Patrick's therapy room. Patrick shut the door as the others settled around the table.

He began, "We have a new resident arriving tomorrow. We happened to meet his doctor at the conference when we attended the same session about extranormal abilities—"

"Which was a load of tosh," Emily put in.

"—and she overheard us talking. Her patient is a boy, about your age, with the exact same pattern of incidents, as far as we can tell from this first discussion."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before looking back to the adults. Hermione said, "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."

Emily looked lost, as did Harry. Patrick chuckled, recognizing the quote, and replied, "I'm not sure about enemy action, but yes, we have a definite pattern going on here. We're going to need your help. Harry, you made things a thousand times easier for Hermione by sharing your experiences. The both of you can make all the difference in the world for this boy. From what little we know, his parents are even more frantic than yours, Hermione. They've been trying to punish it out of him and of course it hasn't worked."

Intent on the impending new resident, neither of the doctors noticed how Harry paled at his last statement, nor the swift glance that Hermione gave him.

Emily continued, "We expect them to be here pretty early. If we could ask you to get up and be done with breakfast as soon as the canteen opens, you can hang out in the lounge and be lookouts."

Harry had recovered quickly and was looking slightly grumpy at the thought of rising early on a Sunday, but Hermione nodded briskly. "We can read or play cards while we wait."

As they all stood again, Emily put an arm around each child and hugged them. "I knew we could count on you two."

* * *

**_24 November 1990_**

Harry and Hermione sat in the lounge near the picture window. Hermione had a ball of yarn and her needles, attempting her first hat. Harry had his copy of _A Wind in the Door_ from the library. Every so often one of them would glance out of the window, looking for the new arrival.

Hermione happened to spot the car first and set her knitting aside. "They're here, Harry."

He marked his place in his book and headed for the main doors while Hermione ran to fetch Dr Greene. He sat on the nearest bench and remembered how Hermione had arrived months ago.

He watched as the black woman and boy entered, showing the usual attitudes. The mother looked both worried sick and painfully hopeful while the son looked around warily. The same frisson that he felt when he had seen Hermione for the first time ran through Harry, telling him that he and this boy shared something different. He stood and approached them with a hand out. The boy saw him coming and narrowed his eyes for a moment.

"Hi, I'm Harry. Welcome to Esperança House."

The woman ignored him as she looked for an adult in charge. The boy relaxed slightly and shook. "I'm Dean. You been here long?"

That got the woman's attention. "Dean! Don't be rude!"

Harry smiled to show he wasn't bothered. "I live here, actually. I'm an orphan, been here since I was five." He looked over the two large suitcases and the holdall. "Want a hand? They put you next door to me."

Dr Greene and Hermione approached the group. As the doctor smoothly took over Dean's mother, Hermione bounced over to them. "Hallo, I'm Hermione Granger."

The boy smiled and shook hands with her. "Dean, Dean Thomas. Nice to meet you."

"Hermione, give us a hand with the bags? We can show Dean around while Dr Greene goes over things with his mum."

Hermione nodded at Harry's suggestion and took the holdall while each boy grabbed a suitcase. Hermione steadied the bag on her shoulder and frowned. "What on earth have you got in here that's so big and round? Feels like a globe!"

"It's my football. I never travel without it. Can't count on having a ball if you have enough people for some footie, you know."

"I can imagine. Do you read much?"

"A bit. I'd rather play videogames, though."

Harry sensed Hermione faltering slightly at the lack of common ground and stepped in. "We'll have plenty of chances for some footie. The oldest kids like to play and they almost never have enough for decent-sized teams. They'll actually be glad of us hanging around for a change."

As they left the main hall, chatting easily, Emily spared them a glance and smiled while Mrs Thomas continued to pour out her desperation over her child's strange illness.

* * *

Dean looked around his room, cautiously optimistic. The room was bright and tidy and all his own. Not being crammed in with his two younger brothers was a definite plus against the fact of being institutionalized away from his family and friends for the foreseeable future. He put his suitcase on the bed and opened it, oblivious to the others as he began to sort his clothes into drawers. Having seven people in a not-big-enough flat instilled neatness by necessity.

Dean was an easygoing lad when away from his siblings and made friends easily. He liked Harry immediately and thought Hermione might be all right as well once she settled down. At least she seemed a sensible sort, passionate about books instead of dollies like his youngest sister or poncy boy singers like his oldest sister.

He opened his holdall, tossing the football onto the bed. He stacked the few books he had brought beside it and then set a framed family photograph on the desk. Harry looked at the group of smiling faces curiously while Hermione moved to the books and began reading the titles.

Dean took out the case that held his colored pencils and watercolors, then set the new empty sketchpad beside it, a gift from his grandparents. Hermione noticed them and immediately perked up. "Ooh, you draw?"

Dean shrugged. "I suppose. Been doing it for years."

"Very cool. I never really got the hang of drawing," Harry offered. Dean passed him the case and sketchpad, nodding to the desk and Harry set them down.

A voice broke in. "New kid, you better be careful. You don't want to hang around with Potty and the Shakespeare girl."

All three children looked to the door, where Piers Moffat was standing. Hermione glanced at Harry with a glint in her eye. He smiled and nodded.

Hermione gave a clear wave of her hand and the door closed in Moffat's face. They could hear Moffat's yell of surprise and the pounding of his footsteps down the hall.

Dean stared, open-mouthed. Harry smiled again. "Did your mum tell you that you'd have a couple of friends just like you here?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

ETA: Because it's a FAQ: I've been asked a lot about why Hermione didn't get her letter on her birthday or when the kids will get their letters. I chose my method by making some deductions from canon: Harry's first Hogwarts letter arrived in the post about a week before his birthday. Then more arrived, and more, until Sunday's deluge down the chimney drove Vernon to try and hide. Hagrid didn't show up until midnight on Harry's birthday to finally give him a letter he could read. So my assumption is that if Harry's letter arrived before his birthday, then possibly Hogwarts does what is often done: letters are sent out once a year to all eligible candidates at the same time. So in this story letters will go out near the end of July and it's possible that a child with an August birthday would get their letter before they turn 11. That's my structure for Hogwarts letters in this AU.


	10. Chapter 9

**__****Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

A couple of answers to reviewers who inconveniently don't have accounts and therefore can't be PM'ed:

- SnowPea: Yes, for my purposes I have begun with Harry's year group, but I have ideas and notions and plans. After all, the doctors would be pretty useless if they couldn't observe and correlate the data that they've inadvertently gathered so far, right?

- WendyArgemone: The only reason Dean's mom came alone is because on such short notice they couldn't get a babysitter for all of Dean's younger half-siblings. And I love Dean, too. One of the reasons I'm using him is precisely in order to incorporate the canon background that Rowling never used.

* * *

**_29 November 1990_**

_If only all patients were this easy._

Emily closed the file for Dean Thomas and dropped it into the drawer, pushing it shut with a satisfied thump. Their newest resident was a ridiculously easy case as far as her profession went. He had the usual healthy relationship with his younger brothers and sisters: scrappy and competitive for their parents' attention but unified against anything seen as an outside threat. His parents were typically loving and supportive while keeping a steady level of discipline in order to manage five energetic children. In two sessions with her Dean had revealed himself to be a friendly, rather intelligent and quite creative boy. He also had a nice sense of humour and a firm passion for the West Ham football team.

In short, the only thing the matter with Dean was the fact that he had incidents.

With resignation, she drew out the file on Piers Moffat, who was as night as one could be to Dean's day. In ten months the only progress they had made was in curbing the worst of his problematic behaviour. He no longer struck out physically at the other children or stalked them, but he still sought confrontation first and if bested would look to avenge himself. He went after Harry frequently, trying to get the other boy into trouble when an incident happened. Emily was quite frankly surprised that there had been nothing worse between Piers and Harry than verbal exchanges so far.

Emily opened the file and began mentally composing a pessimistic progress report to his parents.

* * *

**_4 December 1990_**

The trio was in Harry's room, enjoying an unexpected bit of free time thanks to two teachers being out with flu. Hermione had decided that they ought to make a chart of things that each of them had done more than once. Looking for patterns appealed to her organizational instincts. Harry found the exercise interesting and Dean was gradually drawn in as he began to see a pattern in his own incidents.

Hermione had already noted down _come here_, _go away_, _break_, and _repair_. When Dean saw that one, he sat up from his sprawl across Harry's bed.

"Repair? You mean, you fixed a broken thing?"

Harry was leaning against his headboard and gave Hermione a look filled with pride. "She put her entire kitchen back together after exploding it. Even refilled the broken glass of juice that started it."

"Wicked. I'd've had a lot less guff if I'd been able to fix my mum's snow globe collection."

The others winced in sympathy, then Harry returned to the subject. "How about _safe_? We've used that one at least twice that I remember."

"What does it do?"

Hermione wrote it as she replied, "The first time my mum was driving us home and the roads were wet. The car started sliding and Harry grabbed my hand and told me to concentrate on _safe_. It was like a giant pillow between the car and the lorry we would have crashed into." She smiled as Dean's mouth dropped open and continued, "The second time, Harry and I were up in the tree fort. Harry had gotten a bit out of sorts and I was upset and we'd shaken the ladder rungs off the trunk of the tree. We jumped down, thinking hard about _safe_, and we bounced like we landed on cushions instead of hitting the ground."

"I did that! My little sister, she tripped and was going to hit her head on the low table, but I reached out and it was like she changed direction or something, she fell into the couch instead!"

Hermione put a tick mark under Dean's name in the row for _safe_. "That's another one."

Dean glanced over at the open door to their room. "How about just _move_? Like when you closed the door my first day here? That's not really calling something to you or pushing it away."

Hermione added it and ticked under her name. "You?"

Dean nodded. "We had Mickey over, he's the baby in the flat above us and his mum needed to go talk to someone about a job. He was crying, really getting on my nerves, but my da was trying to make dinner. Mickey's dummy was on the table and I kind of slid it over to where he could grab it for himself."

Hermione made another tic on the chart. "Harry?"

He nodded. "Of course. Lots of times."

Hermione twisted one corner of her mouth as she considered the list. "What else?"

Harry frowned, fingering the bobbles on the edge of his pillowcase. "Did either of you ever…move **yourself** somewhere else? Like here one minute and there the next?"

Both of his friends looked at him with wide eyes. Her hand hesitating over the paper, Hermione asked, "Do you mean like a teleport? A real, actual teleport?"

Harry shrugged, looking a little upset at their reaction. "I dunno. I remember my aunt shouting to me from downstairs. I was cleaning the bathroom floors and when she shouted she sounded almost mental, she was so angry about something. And the next thing I knew, there was this loud noise and I was in the kitchen in front of her, still holding the brush I'd been using to scrub. She screamed and ran out of the room.

"They brought me here the next weekend."

Hermione got up from Harry's desk and hugged him. Dean cuffed his knee a little self-consciously. After a moment Harry smiled back and squeezed Hermione to signal that he was okay. Hermione went back to the list and wrote _disappear/appear_ and another tick mark for Harry.

"I've got another one. Either of you just change something? No breaking or moving, just making something different about it?" Dean looked at them. "One of the first things I remember happening was when Malia's dollie suddenly had green skin. Malia was crying about it and Mum couldn't explain what happened. I'd tripped over the bloody thing when she left it in the floor. That was one of the incidents that made me think I was doing it."

Harry smiled. "I did something like that. One of the nurses got mad at me and another boy because we'd tracked dirt into the hall. While she was shouting at us, her hair changed colour to this really bright blue. She didn't even realize everyone was staring at her for ages. It happened a few months before you got here, Hermione."

Hermione noted _change_ and ticked under all their names. "I've done that with a crayon when I wanted to use a different colour." Dean's eyes lit up at that, considering the artistic possibilities. She looked over the chart.

"Well, this is a good start. I think we should all do some kind of record-keeping. If we get in the habit of keeping journals, writing for a few minutes every night about anything that we think we did, it'll help."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose."

Dean nodded. "Can't hurt."

Hermione beamed and leapt to her feet. "I'll go ask Mary if there are any blank books in the office!"

The boys watched her run out the door. Dean shook his head. "She's always like this, isn't she?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, but otherwise she wouldn't be our Hermione."

* * *

**_21 December 1990_**

"Harry, are you sure about this?"

Harry smiled over at Hermione, who was rocking back and forth in her chair, clutching Sir Woof and looking at him with worry. "I'm sure. Christmas is for families and your parents have been really nice about having me over plenty of times."

Dean shrugged from his own chair, his feet propped on his suitcase. "Wish I could offer, but we just don't have the room for anyone to stop over."

Harry leaned forward. "Mates, really, it's okay. The doctors will be here most of the time. Pippa will be here and you know she'll take me on outings and such. We'll get visitors who want to look good—once we even had one of the blokes who was the Doctor on _Doctor Who_ come and hand out presents. And you'll be back after New Year's."

Hermione leaned back, still frowning. "If you're sure. I don't like you being stuck here. I'm going to ask my parents if we can have both of you over for a weekend soon."

"That'd be cool," Dean replied. He was flipping through the book that Hermione had given him on the history of the West Ham Club.

Hermione leapt to her feet. "My parents are here. Dean, I think I see yours down the queue."

Harry went with them to the doors where Mary and Sushila were escorting the departing children to their cars. Hermione hugged him fiercely and he returned it, patting her back. "Happy Christmas, Hermione, and don't worry." He slapped hands with Dean. "Both of you, call if you need to."

"You too, Harry." Hermione gave him one final fretful glance and followed Sushila out the door. Dean gave Harry a mock salute and jogged down the queue of cars, not waiting for an escort.

Harry waved at the Grangers and started down the hallway to his room. Perhaps getting into one of the new books the Grangers had sent would keep any feelings of loneliness away.

He frowned when he saw Moffat leaving his room and ran down the hall. He stopped at his door, aghast.

His room was littered in paper. He picked up a piece and realized it was a page from the new book on motorcycles that was Hermione's Christmas gift to him. Moffat had taken all of his new books and ripped them apart.

With a scream of rage, Harry took off after Moffat. The other boy was approaching the tuck cupboard when it burst open and snacks began shooting out at him. Moffat stopped and shrieked as he was pelted with granola bars, packets of crisps, and envelopes of dried fruit. Then his legs snapped together, stiff as boards, and he fell over. Harry stopped a few feet from him and glared as Moffat tried to pry his legs apart.

"Why? Why did you do it? Why won't you leave us alone?"

"You're a freak! You don't belong here! You should be put away somewhere where you won't make anyone else freaky like you! You've already made two others like you! But you won't get me!"

Harry froze at his words, momentarily stunned. In his mind he heard voices taunting him, calling him that hateful word. He barely registered the approaching footsteps until Pippa was beside him, checking him over. "Harry?"

He replied absently, "He tore up my new books. I saw him leaving my room."

Pippa moved to Moffat, now able to move freely, and looked him over. Other than some scratches from a few sharp corners of packaging, he was unhurt. Pippa yanked him to his feet and dragged him back toward Harry's room to check for herself. Harry, still slightly dazed, remembered Hermione's list and _repair. _He waved a hand at the scattered snacks and watched as every last item returned to its spot in the cupboard.

Pippa had gotten Patrick's attention and he was lecturing Moffat. The boy protested again about Harry being a freak and Patrick's temper snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, you've used up all your chances here. I'm recommending to Dr Greene that you be sent elsewhere as soon as arrangements can be made. In the meantime you are suspended from all activities until I say otherwise."

Harry walked back up to Pippa as Patrick led a still-whining Moffat away to find Emily. His oldest friend hugged him, leading him back into his room. "Make a list of the books. We'll replace them tomorrow and send the bill to his family."

Harry shook his head and waved both hands in a gathering motion. Pippa's eyes widened as the papers lifted and whirled, rapidly coalescing into four piles. The covers rose from the floor and wrapped themselves around each pile before sealing themselves into place and arranging themselves in the stack that had been on his desk. "At least being a freak is worth something."

The word _freak_ jogged Pippa's memory and she remembered her very first conversation with Harry. Hoping he wouldn't pick up on her nervousness at witnessing his feat, she hugged him hard, willing her pulse to stop racing. "It's worth a lot when it means you can fix things other people can't, Harry." She stroked his hair and he seemed to relax into her. "It makes being a freak a very good thing."

* * *

**_5 January 1991_**

Dean crowed in triumph as he looked at the card he had drawn. "Three aces, two kings! Beat that!" He spread his hand out and looked at the others expectantly.

Harry tossed his hand onto the table in disgust. Hermione paused one moment, calculating odds in her computer-like brain, and laid her cards down as well. Dean scooped the pile of jelly babies and mint humbugs to him and put three back in the centre. "Next?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's the last of my Christmas candy you just took."

Dean immediately offered a handful back. "We weren't playing for keeps, though."

Harry shook his head. "I'm done, too. It's almost time for tea anyway." The three of them gathered the cards and sweets into the gift bags from the staff. "I'll meet you in the canteen, need to use the loo."

Hermione and Dean nodded and continued to tidy the playroom. Harry went down the hall to the nearest boys' toilet.

He opened the door and paused, puzzled at the lack of light. He fumbled for the switch.

He sensed the movement behind him and tried to duck sideways. The object that had aimed for his head came down in full force on his shoulder and arm instead and he cried out at the pain, barely registering the snap of a bone breaking. He grabbed at the door as he slumped, trying to keep his feet. He could hear running footsteps and yelled again as something heavy connected with his hip and sent him to the floor.

Hermione and Dean rounded the corner at a full run, Hermione bracing against the wall to keep from skidding. Harry managed to roll over and see Moffat standing over him with a cricket bat, ready to strike a third time.

Dean gestured, wrenching the bat from Moffat's grasp. The bully wailed as his weapon sailed into Dean's hands. Then Hermione made a fist and Moffat felt himself flung into the air. His head thudded against the wall and he slid to the floor, unconscious.

Hermione fell to her knees next to Harry. "Where did he hurt you?"

"Arm," Harry gasped out, fully realizing the pain of the blows as the adrenalin left him. Hermione saw the bend in his upper arm where there should not have been one and blanched.

Hermione reached out to Harry, then hesitated. _Will it work on people? What if I hurt him more?_ Seeing Harry bite his lip as he tried not to move decided her. She lowered her hands to his arm, touching the sleeve very gingerly. _Repair this, heal this, make it the way it should be…_

Harry inhaled sharply as he felt the bones inside his arm shift back together and knit into place, then the pain receding. Dean's eyes widened as he saw light travelling from Hermione's hands to Harry's arm, spreading across his shoulder and down to his hip.

The light faded and Dean helped Harry to his feet. They both looked at Hermione, a bit awestruck. Seeing their expressions, she thought furiously for a moment and then hissed, "Keep a lookout, Harry. Dean, hide that bat fast." She moved over to Moffat and concentrated, holding her hands over his head. _Heal. Heal. Fix this._ Moffat stirred and groaned as white light briefly washed over his head like a halo. His eyes fluttered and Hermione panicked. _SLEEP!_ Moffat went limp.

Harry moved his arm and flung it around Hermione in a tight hug. "You're brilliant! We can use this to fix ourselves, not just things!"

Hermione bit her lip, remembering her parents' first reaction when she repaired the kitchen she had destroyed. _Not good, this is not good._ "And what would happen if everyone knew we could just heal people left and right?"

Harry paused for a moment, thinking it through. "Oh."

"Exactly. We'd be heroes or monsters. Either way, we'd be taken from here in a heartbeat and possibly never see each other again."

Dean caught up to them. "It's in a corner in one of the playrooms. What are we telling people?"

Harry wrenched his thoughts away from imagining everyone withdrawing from him the way Dr Greene had in the summer. "Not a thing. Not this time."

"This is too big," Hermione added. "If even a hint of this got out we'd be swarmed by the newspapers, by doctors wanting demonstrations, by sick people looking for miracles…"

Dean shook his head. "But they are miracles, aren't they?"

"And what happens to miracle workers, Dean? The people in power use them or destroy them." Hermione looked back down at Moffat. "How do we convince him not to tell?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply, then paused. He remembered cross old Mr MacGillivray acting like he didn't remember his row of plant pots falling off his balcony and the postmistress forgetting about the mail sack splitting and spilling the post all down the street. "I think I can make him forget he did this."

Hermione gasped and Harry stared at him. He clarified, "Erasing his memory? How is that fair?"

"Dunno that it is. But it makes sure that no one else knows we can heal."

"But if he doesn't remember he can't be punished for it."

Hermione stared down at Moffat as the boys argued, then began nodding slowly. "It's the best choice. Moffat's leaving in a few days anyway and won't be here to try this again. I say do it."

Harry looked from one to the other. "I don't like it. It's not right to muck about in someone's mind like that."

She laid a hand on his arm. "I don't like it either. I just think it's the best way to protect us all, keep us here where we're safe."

Dean put his hand on Harry's other shoulder. "Same here. Don't like it, but don't see a better way out."

Harry drew a deep breath. "All right, I see what you mean. Do it, Dean."

Harry and Hermione turned to be lookouts down either end of the hallway. Dean knelt by Moffat and put his hand to the other boy's head. _Forget that you tried to attack Harry. Forget that you planned to attack him. You're counting the days until you can be far away from him, but you never tried to hurt him._

Dean stood. "Now, start waking up." The trio took off around the corner and dodged into the playroom they had used for their card game.

Hermione collapsed into a beanbag chair. "I don't know about you two, but I say this doesn't go in the journals."

Dean blinked. "You're serious about not telling the doctors?"

She nodded. "This is too much for them to try and hide. We can't put this on them. There are more than twenty other kids here that need their attention, too, and they wouldn't be able to stop everyone's reactions once it got out."

"I think Hermione's right. The idea that we can heal people, make them forget things. All it takes is one staff member letting it slip, and we'd be taken from here. I don't think I could deal with that. This is the only real home I've had."

Dean looked at Harry's face for a moment, then began nodding. "All right, mum's the word."

Hermione jumped up and hugged him. "Thank you, Dean."

He returned it awkwardly. "S'okay. All for one, one for all and all that."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading! I expect to be back to my usual schedule now - look for the next update around the 15th!


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_21 March 1991_**

Hermione sat in the tree fort, looking out as the clouds in the sky began to reflect the setting sun and grew streaks of pink and gold. She shivered slightly and wrinkled her brow in concentration a moment, warming herself and the air around her. She wasn't sure what had called her out today, the first day of spring, but after hearing Miss Fishman's explanation of the solstices and equinoxes, something had encouraged her to brave the still-chilly temperatures and observe the sunset. The very air around her seemed to quiver with energy. If she could only find a way to connect to it, meld with it…

"Hermione?" Harry's voice cut through her meditation. She sighed and responded.

"Up here!"

She waited, listening as someone clambered up the ladder. Dean's head appeared first. "Wotcher, why are you out here alone?" He crawled in from the branch and Harry followed. "Did we do something?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, just wanted to think about things. Hearing the Fish talk about equinoxes made me realise how long it's been since I've seen a proper sunset."

Dean blew onto his hands. "Couldn't have waited for summer?"

Hermione flapped a hand and both boys blinked, feeling the warmth spread through their bodies and clothes. Dean breathed out, "Wicked!"

"Are you recording that one in your journal?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "It's close enough to the drying-off thing. I think it'll pass all right." She turned to Dean. "Has Dr Greene calmed down yet over the floating thing?"

"Yeah, a lot faster than usual. Maybe because it was a good thing, I had to keep the pills away from Malia. Even my mum was happy I'd gotten them out of her reach in time."

Harry added, "That one falls into the same kind of stuff we were doing when you got here. Telekinesis." He pronounced the last word carefully. "Hermione, it's getting harder to keep the healing a secret. When Toby brought me that rabbit that had been hurt, it took everything I had to keep from yelling for you to make it better right then and there."

"And things are going to get harder overall," Dean said. "I heard Dr Aymler and Dr Takenaka talking. They're going to install security cameras in the whole building."

The other two sat up. "Everywhere?" Hermione asked.

"Hallways, playrooms, the canteen, the playground. Not in the doctors' offices, bedrooms or toilets. It sounded like they wanted to be able to have proof if a kid is behaving badly enough to the others that he needs chucking out, like Moffat."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "We'll just have to be more careful. We've gotten really good at feeling when we're doing something and how to stop it."

Hermione leaned over and put a hand on his knee. "We can do this."

Harry put his hand over hers. "I know. I just wonder how we'll manage when they think we're good enough that you two can go home."

"Doesn't matter. We're friends and we're going to stay friends no matter what. I promise."

"Me, too." Dean added his hand to theirs. "Friends forever."

Harry and Hermione repeated him with smiles. "Friends forever."

All three of them gasped when a golden light covered their hands, then swiftly expanded to envelop them. They all felt a brief but powerful sense of balance and rightness. For that one moment, their world was perfect.

Then the glow receded and left a chill that was both physical and mental. Hermione warmed their bodies up again, but could do nothing for the feeling that something hugely important had happened.

"This one **isn't** going into the journal," Hermione declared.

* * *

**_23 June 1991_**

Harry's nose was pressed to the glass as he stared at the traffic on the A41, drinking in the sights of a bustling London. It was his first time coming this far away that he could remember clearly and certainly it was the first time he'd seen such a huge city.

Hermione sat beside him, her book closed in her lap now that they were near their destination. She smiled at Harry's obvious curiosity. Across the aisle, Dean was talking to Toby, pointing out landmarks that he knew. The atmosphere on the bus was growing more excited by the minute as the children knew they were close.

Dr Aymler stood and took a microphone to address them. "All right, you cretins, we're almost to the Zoo. Remember the rules: stay with your group and the adult assigned to you, follow the park regulations, and don't spend your pocket money too fast. We'll meet at the restaurant at eleven-thirty for lunch and then at the main entrance at three o'clock to depart. Any questions?"

Harry, Hermione and Dean mingled with the other children near their age, waiting for Pippa to lead them on. The outing, a gift from a bank director that Dean's family doctor knew, had been the sole topic of conversation since it had been announced a fortnight ago.

Pippa counted noses and nodded. "All right, we stick together. If anyone wants to see something particular, let me know. Otherwise we'll start with the big outdoor exhibits now and check out the indoor ones after lunch, when it gets hotter."

They followed her plan and enjoyed the morning. The trio had gained quite a lot of control of their abilities lately, careful of what they showed the staff. It had worked so well that Dr Greene and Dr Aymler were thinking that Hermione and Dean could return home in time for the next school year. They had spoken to the Grangers about the possibility of fostering Harry. However the dentists, fond as they were of Harry, hesitated to commit, seeing a return to their former normalcy so tantalizingly close. The doctors had not let a breath of their thoughts to the staff yet, lest the kids get wind of it and worry.

After lunch they began with the reptile house, enjoying the cool darkness compared to the sunny day outside. It wasn't nearly as exciting as the great cats or the elephants or apes as the lizards and snakes were generally hiding or sleeping. Harry noticed a fat blond boy who looked a bit like Moffat standing in front of one glass, knocking on it rather hard before stomping off and muttering, "Boring!"

Harry stepped forward and looked at the large snake curled up on the floor of its case. The sign to the side labelled it a boa constrictor from Brazil. He sighed, "Guess you have to put up with that a lot."

To his surprise, the snake opened its eyes and lifted its head. _You have no idea._

Harry's eyes widened. "Did you say something?"

The snake uncoiled, moving forward and rising to meet Harry's eye level. _I did. But you're the first of your kind who ever replied in a sensible manner._

Harry tried to gather his scattered wits, wanting to preserve the good impression he'd made. "Pleased to meet you. What was Brazil like?"

The snake looked significantly at the side of the glass and Harry saw the notation that it had been bred in the zoo. "Oh, so you've lived here all your life. At least it's safe here? And you don't have to worry about hunting your food." Even as he said the words, he felt they were wrong. He knew. He was cared for at Esperança House, even loved by some of the staff, but it wasn't like growing up with a real family.

_It's safe here, but it's not freedom._ The snake echoed his thoughts.

Before Harry could answer, Dean was at his side. "Wicked! He's looking right at you!"

_We're conversing, you rude thing._

Dean gave no sign of hearing the snake's comment. He turned his attention to the sign identifying the snake. "A boa constrictor! That's the kind that squeezes its prey to death before swallowing it whole. D'you think they'll be feeding it soon?"

The snake visibly shook its head. _They always want to see me eat. I prefer to dine in privacy._

Dean had caught the movement from the corner of his eye. "It just…it just answered, didn't it?"

Harry nodded. "I can hear him speak in full sentences. He's not too impressed with you acting the same as everyone else."

Dean glanced uncertainly at Harry and then at the snake. "Oh, er…I'm sorry?"

The snake bowed politely and both boys smiled. Dean began, "Does it—"

"Dad! Look at this!" The blond boy shoved them apart, sending Harry down hard on the concrete floor. Dean kept his feet but bumped into the wall. He shoved back, getting the attention of a large beefy man in the process.

"Watch what you're doing, you great lump!"

"Don't you dare touch my son, you little hooligan!"

The escalating argument was cut short when the blond boy screamed and jumped away from the now glass-free enclosure. The snake slithered down to the floor and snapped at him. _Want to pound on the window now? _Dean retreated to the wall, keeping his eyes glued to it.

Harry, his face ashen, was staring at the man as he pulled his son to him. Instinctively Harry backed away, throwing up an arm to shield himself. The snake looked at him.

_I owe you one. Why are you afraid of the big one?_

Harry whispered, "He…hurt me. He locked me up like you were locked up."

The snake looked back at the man in clear contempt. _He's too big to eat, but I'll give him a good fright on my way out. Thanks, amigo._ With that the snake headed straight for the man and boy, who broke away and ran for the exit.

As the snake followed them, looking for the best escape route, Dean moved to help Harry to his feet, noticing how pale he was. "All right there?"

Harry nodded, still staring in the direction the man and boy had gone. "Yeah, the snake didn't hurt me."

"Come on, Hermione's probably outside going spare."

* * *

As it turned out, Hermione was calming down Toby, who was a bit frightened of snakes in the first place and very displeased to hear the cries of people running out of the reptile house that a huge snake was loose. Pippa was nearby, gathering the rest of her group as they exited the building.

"Harry! Dean! Over here!" They ran over to her and let her look them over. "You two all right?"

Harry nodded and Dean replied, "We're fine other than some big pillock trying to knock us down. That's when the glass vanished and the snake went after him and his da. It was wicked!"

Pippa looked from Harry to Dean sharply. "The glass vanished? Just disappeared into thin air?"

Dean realized that he had no idea which of them had done it and traded uncertain looks with Harry. "I'm not sure how it happened."

Pippa looked at Harry again, who managed to shrug innocently. He looked around and spotted the man and the boy. His uncle and his cousin. His uncle was yelling at a zoo attendant, driving her to tears as she failed to explain how the snake had gotten out. For the first time in months, Harry could feel that sensation of pressure surging uncontrollably inside his head and tried frantically to divert it. _The Vincent Black Shadow series "C", introduced in 1949, had a 998 cc 50 degree OHV V-twin engine running a 7.3:1 compression ratio…_ Only when a trash bin down the path from them turned over on its own did the feeling begin to fade.

Seeing the attendant flinch as his uncle threw up a frustrated hand in her direction decided Harry. It was more important to never be anywhere near them again than to identify them and risk being returned to that house.

He moved over to Hermione and sat down beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it hard. She left off soothing Toby and looked at him in concern, squeezing back. Dean gave him a curious glance but kept silent as Pippa counted them and began to shepherd them away.

* * *

**_24 July 1991_**

Mary peeked through the open door and saw Hermione on her bed, lost in a book. She tapped on the jamb to get the child's attention. "And why aren't you out with your two gents, milady?"

Hermione marked her place and sat up. "They wanted to spend the day with Toby since he's going home Friday and Toby wanted to play pirates in the tree fort **without girls**."

Mary tsked. "That was rude of him."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't mind. It's far too hot out anyway."

"Well, here. You can read this in peace." Mary fished an envelope out of her mail basket. "Your parents or Dean's must have sent something as there's one for each of you three."

Hermione took the overlarge envelope, frowning at it. It was a beige colour and had a texture of threads in it, like old-fashioned parchment rather than proper paper. The address was written in a neat scrolling hand with bright green ink:

_Miss H. Granger_

_Room 18_

_Esperança House_

_Coventry_

She turned it over, looking for a return notice or postmark. Instead there was a large seal in purple wax: an ornate letter H in the centre surrounded by four animals. Puzzled, she carefully opened the letter to avoid damaging it. She inhaled sharply as she absorbed the contents, rereading in disbelief.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. I will be in touch with you on 1 August with more information._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione vaulted off her bed and raced down the hall to the playground entrance. She burst through the door and screamed, "HARRY! DEAN!"

Dean poked his head out a window of the tree fort. "Blimey, Hermione, where's the fire?"

"Look at this!" she cried and the parchment in her hand sailed up to him. As he caught it and scanned the page, his eyes widening, she shouted, "Mary said we've all got one! Don't you see? It explains everything!"

"Bloody…Harry! Read this!"

She could hear the boys' voices getting louder and more excited, then they began scrambling along the branch to the ladder. A hand landed on her shoulder.

"You were in quite a hurry there, Hermione." Dr Aymler looked to be in between interested and irritated, depending on her explanation.

"Harry, Dean and I got letters! Mary has theirs. Just read it!"

The boys had reached the ground, Toby trailing behind and pouting slightly that they'd been interrupted. Dean thrust the parchment at Dr Aymler to read. The psychiatrist's large moustache and bushy eyebrows twitched as he read.

"Well, this is…interesting."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Finally, we have letters! But we still have some distance to go before getting to Hogwarts. Thanks as always for reading!


	12. Chapter 11

**__****Disclaimer:**If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

This is something of a filler chapter, briefly explaining half of the reason Dumbledore never knew that Harry had left Privet Drive. The other half will come in a few chapters.

* * *

**_Summer 1986_**

Arabella Figg was beginning to wonder. Usually the Dursleys got in touch about her keeping Harry for them at the beginning of June. She babysat Harry every year during Dudley's birthday. But here it was, June half gone, and she hadn't heard from them yet.

She debated whether to go to them and ask. Dumbledore had been firm about her keeping as low a profile as possible; if she did anything that made the Dursleys suspect her knowledge of the wizarding world, they might forbid all contact and then she'd lose the toehold she had. She worried over the problem as she shuffled back from marketing, her little cart full of cat food and a few groceries.

She was startled out of her thoughts when a few boys ran out of the garden at number twelve Wisteria Walk and across her path. She recognized one of them as Dudley Dursley and seized her chance.

"Dudley! Dudley, hold a tic!"

The boys stopped and sneered at her, taking in her housecoat and tartan carpet slippers. She ignored them and asked, "Dudley, your parents haven't let me know about watching Harry during your birthday this year. Do you know if they need me?"

A brief flash of panic showed on Dudley's face before he recovered and said, "You'll have to ring Mum, I don't know." Before she could ask anything else, he took off and the rest of his little gang followed, jeering at him for speaking to the batty old lady.

Mrs Figg debated the rest of the way home. She could call; it would be the neighbourly thing to do. But on the other hand, the Dursleys didn't do neighbourly unless they wanted something. They might be suspicious of her asking after Harry.

Perhaps if she had Tibbles slip over and listen in, she might learn something. On the other hand if they had that dreadful sister of Vernon's visiting, that would mean that she would have that awful dog of hers, and Tibbles wasn't getting any younger.

One thing she wouldn't do was contact Dumbledore. She'd made such a fool of herself that time she'd reported him missing when she saw Dudley and the other children playing in the park without Harry and it turned out Petunia had kept him home. Dumbledore had been furious over her fuss about nothing, so she never called Dumbledore again. He owled her on quarter-days for updates and she always gave him the same descriptions, emphasizing how small and thin and unkempt Harry looked. He never seemed to do anything with that information.

As she put away her groceries she decided. She would wait. If the opportunity to speak to Vernon or Petunia came up, she would ask then. In the meantime she would keep her low profile, as ordered.

* * *

**_Spring 1987_**

Mrs Figg was standing in the aisle of the grocer's, debating on whether she wanted bacon or ham, when she was suddenly jostled.

"I've got the sausages, Mum!" Dudley Dursley loaded his arms with packages and turned to dump them in the already-full cart being pushed by his mother. Mrs Figg brightened.

"Hello, Mrs Dursley! I hope all is well with you. I missed seeing Harry last summer."

Petunia Dursley's face had gone ashy, but she managed a smile. "How pleasant to run into you. Yes, well, we ended up taking Harry with us. Seems he's finally learned to behave himself somewhat in public."

Mrs Figg smiled broadly. That was good news. "I am very glad to hear that. But should you ever need someone to watch him for any reason, please don't hesitate to call."

Petunia was playing nervously with her pearls and actually jumped, startled, when Dudley dumped three tubs of ice cream into the cart. "We will, we will. Must dash now!"

Mrs Figg finished her shopping, humming happily to herself. It seemed the Dursleys were finally accepting Harry into the family. _Took the idiot Muggles long enough!_

* * *

**_Winter 1988_**

She ran into Vernon Dursley at the hardware store. He was looking over snow shovels as Dudley had broken the old one, forgetting about the hydrant sign under the snowdrift as he swung the shovel through it. She needed a new flex for her fairy lights as Tibbles had naughtily chewed through the old one.

"Happy Christmas, Mr Dursley! How are you?"

He jumped and his face turned rosy as he recognised her. "Oh…er…happy Christmas to you, Mrs Figg. How are you?"

"I'm getting on, thanks. Are the boys enjoying their holiday?"

Vernon flushed even darker. "Yes, of course. Counting the days until Father Christmas visits, of course!"

"If it's not too much trouble, do tell Harry I wouldn't mind a little visit. It's been ever so long since I've seen him and he was such good company when I had him over before."

"Yes, I'll…ah…I'll tell him. Can't say for sure, though. You know how today's kids are, always busy with their own lives. Don't bother with the likes of us if they don't have to."

"True, true. Just tell him he's welcome anytime and wish him a happy Christmas for me!"

Vernon nodded, grabbed a shovel at random, and fled for the tills.

* * *

**_Autumn 1990_**

Mrs Figg was worried. She had had Tibbles carefully patrol the neighbourhood several times over the summer and there had not been a single sighting of Harry. He wasn't outside at number four Privet Drive. He wasn't to be found at the park or play area. He hadn't been seen at the shops.

Quarter-day was coming soon and she would have to report to Dumbledore. She was still reluctant to voice her concerns to him even after being ignored for so long. However it was worrisome that she hadn't laid eyes on Harry for years now.

She decided on a plan of action. With Tibbles' help, she timed her shopping trip to coincide with Petunia's one Tuesday morning. She fell into step beside her and trapped Petunia into walking and conversing with her or being abominably rude. To prime the pump, Mrs Figg opened the conversation with a bit of gossip.

"I wonder who that young woman is that's been staying with Mr Prentice this week?" She knew perfectly well it was his niece, stopping for a few days as her flat was repainted. But perhaps Petunia didn't know.

"Really? How young? I should have guessed. He never paid attention to his wife when she was alive, poor thing."

After a few minutes of shredding Mr Prentice's character, Mrs Figg seized her chance. "Seems I haven't seen young Harry in ages. Dudley's always out and about playing with his friends, but not Harry."

Petunia hesitated very briefly before replying. "Oh, Harry has turned into quite the bookworm. He's always inside, nose stuck in a book or playing on the computer. He'll grow up to be one of those brilliant computer geniuses the way he's going."

Waves of relief washed over Mrs Figg. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation and yet more evidence that the Dursleys had changed their ways and were taking good care of their nephew.

"That's lovely that he's found such productive hobbies. I rather miss him. Do tell him I'd love to have him for tea sometime."

"I'll tell him, but you know boys. He'll forget in an instant." Petunia's eyes suddenly brightened. "And he's studying so hard – he's trying for a place at a public school, one where his parents went. He'll need the best grades possible for it."

Mrs Figg brightened as well, immediately guessing that Petunia was carefully referring to Hogwarts. "That's wonderful for him. Tell him best of luck for me, do."

Petunia smiled back and led the conversation into the goings on with her next door neighbour.

* * *

**_24 July 1991_**

The witch stepped into the small room that housed the Hogwarts Quill and picked up the List. She moved through the immensely long scroll until she found the first date after 1 September 1979.

_19 September 1979 – Hermione Jane Granger (Robert and Viola Granger)_

She skimmed the List until she found the last entry before 31 August 1980, noting that this was the year that Harry Potter would arrive, and used her wand to copy the section onto a new parchment. One quick tap of the copy reassembled the names alphabetically by the surnames. She carried the parchment over to the enchanted desk, pulled out a list of the required supplies for first years, and summoned stacks of fresh parchment and new envelopes. Once everything was arranged on the desk, she tapped it with her wand. When the desk began to glow a rosy pink, she stated in a slow, clear voice, "Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

The glow deepened to a rich red and she watched admiringly as the year's Hogwarts letters began to assemble themselves. As long as she had been teaching here, Professor McGonagall had never quite got over her awe of the power and creativity of the Founders and previous headmasters in developing this system of enrolling magical children in the school. Bright green ink appeared on each page, correctly addressing each envelope for the whereabouts of the child, writing each letter and supply list, inserting the papers in the envelopes and sealing them, then instantly vanishing them to reappear in the home of the child—or in the case of the Muggleborns, in the post since the early days of the Royal Mail.

Around the Ns, she moved to return the Master Scroll to its proper position, with the Quill ready to note the next magical birth. By the time she returned to the desk, it was finishing with Ronald Weasley (_Heavens, another one? Please don't let him take after the twins!_) and Blaise Zabini.

She tapped the desk a final time and a shorter list appeared on a fresh parchment. These were the students for whom neither parent was recognized as previously being on the List. She glanced over it, seeing half-a-dozen names on it. She carried the list to Dumbledore's office.

"Good morning, Minerva! That time of year, is it?"

"Yes, all the letters went off without a hitch. We have several Muggleborn students this year, four boys and two girls."

Dumbledore raised his bushy brows. "That's more than usual. Can you manage all of them?"

She nodded. "I believe so. I'll start with the girls and then do the boys."

"Are you sure? I can have Severus help you."

Minerva shuddered inwardly at the thought of a Muggleborn's first contact with Hogwarts being the unfriendly Potions professor. "No need. I'll handle the first visits and then turn the names over to the Muggle Liaison Office for organizing the trip to Diagon Alley and King's Cross."

"Very well, Minerva. Let me know if I can help in any way."

* * *

**_31 July 1991_**

They were so caught up in preparing for the next day that Harry had ignored his birthday. The staff had greeted him with a cake, the Grangers had sent a card and another gift certificate, Hermione and Dean had wished him a happy birthday and admitted to having no idea what to buy him, given that they were all apparently going to some magical boarding school in a few weeks. He had nodded in understanding, too keyed up to be bothered.

Now they were all gathered in the formal conference room, almost like a council of war. Dr Aymler was at the head of the table with Harry, Hermione and Dean in a queue on his right. On his left was Dr Greene, then the Grangers, then Dean's parents. His siblings were currently being watched at home by his grandmother, in for a visit from Liverpool. Both sets of parents had been given rooms in the little-used guest area upstairs to be available tomorrow.

Dr Aymler adjusted his glasses and looked around the room. "I suggest that we all eat an early breakfast and plan on being in here starting at nine. That's when our official visiting hours begin and I would expect this representative to not do anything to attract attention to herself by showing up at the break of dawn. I've posted her name at reception with instructions to lead her here immediately. Dr Greene and I have cleared our schedules completely tomorrow and we'll have lunch brought in if necessary."

Andrea Thomas was re-reading the letter addressed to Dean. "I still can't believe it. Magic! Real, actual magic and nobody knows about it!"

"Nobody is right," Robert Granger replied. "I've dug as deep as I can through every connection I've got from colleagues and patients and no one has ever heard of a boarding school named Hogwarts anywhere. It simply doesn't exist, except on this paper."

Dr Greene was looking at the letters to Harry and Hermione. "What I'd like to know is why Hermione's is different from the boys'. Hers is the only one that says this McGonagall person will be here tomorrow. The other two say they want an **owl** by today. What in the world does that mean?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "Maybe she uses an owl to communicate somehow. After all her name is 'Minerva' and the owl was one of the goddess Minerva's symbols."

"Maybe, but I see Dr Greene's point. The letters suggest that the Grangers wouldn't know about this magical school but that the boys would. And that makes no sense." Dr Aymler rubbed one hand over his head in confusion.

Geoff Thomas leaned over to his wife and quietly asked her, "Do you think—"

She shook her head at him. "Not here." He looked puzzled, but obeyed her.

Harry looked around the table. "Well, one way or another we'll know tomorrow."

* * *

**_1 August 1991_**

Professor McGonagall took one more look at the Muggle map before folding it up and stowing it in the purse she carried. It was a bothersome thing, always in the way. Nice cloak pockets, charmed to be extra-deep, were certainly more convenient.

She looked down and smoothed the green tweed set she was wearing and shifted her feet in the uncomfortable brogues, wishing she dared glamour-charm her boots instead. But during these first visits to new Muggleborn students, it was vital to appear completely Muggle, without magic. One never knew what one would find.

She hesitated one more moment, considering the strange address. It wouldn't be the first time she had visited a manor or country house, but the reference to a room number puzzled her. _Why on earth do these Muggles number their rooms?_

Shrugging, she stepped out of the gates and outside of Hogwarts' wards. She concentrated and Apparated, appearing at the front door of a rather large country house. The neat brass plaque to the side read:

_Esperança House Facility for Youth_

_Deliveries to the Right, Please_

_Visiting Hours 9:00-4:00 Daily_

Professor McGonagall squared her shoulders and opened the door. The foyer was spacious, with hallways leading three ways and a pleasant sitting area. A high counter and two desks were arranged under the helpful sign "Reception". She went to the red-haired woman at the counter.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm here to see Hermione Granger."

The young woman's eyes narrowed slightly, but she gestured down the centre hallway. "Right this way. She's expecting you."

McGonagall followed her. The woman knocked on a door, then opened it, saying, "She's here." She stood aside and let the professor enter, closing the door behind her.

Minerva McGonagall stopped short, taken aback at the number of people sitting around a large table. They were all staring at her and the adults looked especially angry. The man at the head of the table stood and spoke.

"Ms McGonagall, thank you for being so prompt. Now, would you care to explain the letters that three of my patients received last week?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading!


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_1 August 1991_**

Hermione studied the woman that Pippa had escorted in with a careful eye. While there was nothing about the woman's demeanour or dress that stood out, little things added up to tell her that she wasn't imagining that quiver in the air of someone else who was different.

Her hair, pulled into a tight bun, was slightly mussed at the top as if she had removed a hat that was nowhere to be seen. The jacket and skirt had an old-fashioned air to them and were far too heavy for the summer weather outside. The bag she carried seemed much too large for what a woman would normally carry with her. She almost looked like a character out of an older book, someone's governess during wartime.

She certainly looked taken aback at the way Dr Aymler spoke to her.

"I beg your pardon? Three? I'm here to talk with Hermione Granger." Her eyes fell on Hermione, who sat up a little straighter. "Who are the others?" As she looked down the row to the boys, she paused and stared as if seeing a ghost. She gasped, "Harry Potter? What are you doing here?"

Dr Greene stood with the three letters in her hand and walked around the table to thrust them at the woman. "Explain yourself first. These arrived on the same day last week. While my patients see them as the answer to everything they've been able to do in the last several years, I find it criminally negligent that they weren't informed sooner."

The Grangers and Thomases were nodding as the woman examined the envelopes, finding Harry's name and his address as Room 6 and Dean's as Room 4. She looked up again, utterly lost.

"Harry, you didn't know? Your aunt and uncle didn't tell you?"

Dr Greene let the acid drip from her voice. "Harry's aunt and uncle left him with us when he was five. They gave us false names and an incorrect address and the authorities could never find them. We have done our best to help him through all kinds of odd happenings. Hermione has been here a little over a year showing the same symptoms and Dean arrived in November for the same treatment."

The woman's thoughts seemed to come into focus. She stood up straighter. "Symptoms? Treatment? These children aren't diseased! They're magical! They're supposed to be able to do these things! They'll learn to control it at Hogwarts!"

Harry opened his mouth and Hermione kicked him. He looked at her and she shook her head slightly at him.

Mr Granger broke in before tempers could escalate further. "Please, let's all sit down and discuss this. Let's start with this 'Hogwarts'. I've been researching all week and there is no mention of any school of any kind with such a name in Britain."

Dr Greene returned to her seat and the woman took the remaining seat at the end of the table, next to Hermione. The woman looked around. "I'm only supposed to deal with the children and their families. How many people here know of these letters?"

Dr Aymler frowned. "The kids and their parents, of course. Dr Greene and myself and a couple of staff members who work closely with us."

"I'll have to deal with them later."

Hermione exchanged glances with Harry and Dean. Something about her words made them uneasy.

The woman continued, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the premier school for magical children in the United Kingdom. We keep our world separate and secret to prevent conflict. I'm sure you'll remember a time when those suspected of being witches were burned at the stake or otherwise tortured and killed.

"Children whose parents are magical grow up knowing about us and knowing that they will attend Hogwarts starting at age eleven. There are a few children who are born magical from Muggle parents. We have a way at Hogwarts to identify these children at birth and then send their acceptance letters when they are eligible. After they get their letters, I visit to explain things and prepare them for an orientation provided by the Ministry of Magic."

"'Scuse me, but what d'you mean by 'muggle'?" Dean asked.

"Non-magical people are called Muggles in our world."

Dean sniffed. "Rather rude-sounding, don't you think? Are we just mugs to you, then?"

Mrs Thomas headed that off. "Ms McGonagall, where is this school located?"

"Professor McGonagall," she corrected. "And I'd rather not give out more information than necessary to outsiders. I can contact the Dursleys and have them here very quickly, if we can meet again with just the families."

"Who are the Dursleys?" Viola Granger snapped.

"Harry's family, of course. Petunia Dursley is Lily Potter's sister. Now if you please—"

Dr Aymler slammed one hand down on the table, making everyone jump except for Dr Greene, who was jotting down the name on her hand. "If **you** please, we will have some answers from you or we will start contacting every person of authority we can think of!"

"You can't do that!" The professor's hand dove into her purse and came out with a wand. Seeing it point at the doctors, all three children jumped to their feet.

"_Oblivi—"_ Before she even finished the word McGonagall was shoved against the wall by an invisible force and her wand was ripped from her hand. The half-spell that had left her wand hit an invisible barrier and was absorbed.

All the adults in the room stared at the children, who now had their hands linked. Harry spoke into the heavy silence.

"Don't. Just…don't do anything. We're ready to listen, but only if you tell us the truth and don't do anything to us. We can stop you if we have to."

Minerva McGonagall got to her feet, still staring at the three untrained children whose raw power had disarmed her and shielded the others. She could feel their magic fairly radiating around them as they waited to see what she would do next.

She raised her empty hands. "Perhaps we should start again."

* * *

Professor McGonagall was out of control and out of ideas at this point. The male doctor had asked the red-haired woman to fetch a tea service for them all and rearranged the seating. She was now at the centre of a long side of the table. She had Harry Potter on her right, Hermione Granger on her left, and Dean Thomas directly across from her. The parents were on either side of him and a doctor sat at each end of the table. She realized that they had done this to try and have the children contain her if she tried something else.

Not that she could, really. The male doctor had examined her wand and laid it on a table behind him, out of her reach.

Once the tea had arrived and everyone had cups in front of them, the doctor began, "Let's try this again. I am Dr Patrick Aymler, one of the medical directors of Esperança House. To my left are Dr Viola Granger and Dr Robert Granger, who are dentists in Nottingham. Then you have Dean Thomas, our patient since November. Then his parents, Geoffrey and Andrea Thomas. Then Dr Emily Greene, another medical director here. And you seem to know Harry Potter, who has been here five-and-a-half years. Finally, Hermione Granger, who arrived in June a year ago.

"Now, if you would, please start over with your name and connection to this school and then tell us about it."

She straightened and tried to assume her best teacher persona. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am the deputy headmistress and professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She paused to sort her next statement and noticed that Miss Granger had raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Your pardon, ma'am, but what's Transfiguration?"

"It is the art of changing one thing into another. For example, the first lesson for your class would be to try and change a matchstick into a needle."

She didn't notice, formulating the next part of her speech, but the doctors watched as the children gave each other eagerly speculative looks.

"Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by four very powerful and influential people: the wizards Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin and the witches Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw. They worked together to build a castle, far away from any Mug—er, non-magical settlements of the time, and created wards that would hide it from anyone who was not magical. Each of them chose magical children that had the qualities that particularly attracted them and began to teach them. Over time this became a house system, with students sorted into one of the four houses when they arrive at Hogwarts. Each house has a section of the castle reserved for the students' rooms and the students have classes with other members of their house."

Robert Granger held up a hand to stop her. "Is yours the only magical school in Britain?"

"There are a couple of very small schools, one in Ireland and one to the south. Their main purpose is to educate those who reject Hogwarts for personal reasons or those who cannot afford the tuition at all. Hogwarts sends a letter to every single magical child born in the British Isles and every child of a former Hogwarts student, no matter where they live."

Robert nodded at her answer. "Do other countries have schools?"

"Many do, but very few are the size of Hogwarts. There is Beauxbatons Academy in France and the Durmstrang Institute somewhere in Scandinavia. North America has at least four large schools. There is one in Australia. I don't have reliable information on other areas."

"And you mentioned tuition. What are the fees for attending Hogwarts?"

"The supplies vary, but the cost for first-year students is around 100 Galleons. Tuition per year is 5,000 Galleons. We do have an instalment plan and some scholarships—"

"Excuse me, five thousand **what**?" Mr Thomas interrupted. "How much does that translate to in pounds?"

McGonagall frowned, concentrating a moment. "I'm not sure what the current exchange rate is, but if I remember correctly one Galleon is around five of your pounds."

Mrs Thomas threw up her hands. "Twenty-five thousand pounds a year? For how many years?"

"Hogwarts is a seven-year program—"

"So we're talking approaching 200,000 pounds when you include that supply list and the things that will need to be replaced and transportation. Lady, if we had that kind of money we'd've bought a house by now instead of managing in a council estate!"

"We do have options!"

Dr Greene leaned forward. "And are those options enough to cover someone like Harry? If it weren't for us, he'd be on the streets!"

McGonagall looked at Harry, floored. "But he has a large inheritance from his parents. James Potter came from a very wealthy family."

Harry's eyes widened at that. "Very wealthy? How much is that?"

"You'd have to ask at Gringotts, that's our bank, but I remember Magnus Potter boasting about James never having to work a day in his life. And wizards tend to live very long lives."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Then if we all go to Hogwarts, I'm paying for it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. A huge grin burst across Dean's face. The adults all clamoured to speak at once. Harry shouted to be heard above them all.

"I mean it! We all go or none of us go!" That statement cut off the growing debate.

McGonagall stared at The Boy Who Lived, who had just declared that he might not attend Hogwarts. Perhaps now was the time to call in Albus.

"If I may, I would like to contact our headmaster and have him join this discussion."

Dr Aymler shook his head. "Not yet, if you please. Now, if we presume that tuition is taken care of one way or another, please describe what happens next."

"A representative from the Muggle Liaison Office in the Ministry of Magic will guide you all to Kings Cross in London and demonstrate how the children would access the magical gate to platform nine and three quarters. That is where the Hogwarts Express takes the students to the station near the school. Then they would show you the entrance to Diagon Alley. That is our main shopping district in London and where you can convert money at Gringotts and buy all the supplies.

"The train departs on the first of September from Kings Cross at eleven in the morning. Muggleborn students are given their tickets during orientation, after they agree to attend. Children in magical families would normally receive their tickets by owl after sending their acceptance. Term ends on the twentieth of June and the train arrives in London around seven in the evening. The train is available for students to go home for Christmas and Easter holidays."

"You said that this schooling is for seven years. What happens after that? What are the university options?" Viola Granger asked.

McGonagall appeared nonplussed at that question. "Well, there are opportunities for students to pursue a mastery in a specific subject, usually working individually with a Master. If a Muggleborn student chooses to go to a Muggle university, we can arrange records that will satisfy their requirements. But most witches and wizards who graduate from Hogwarts go straight into their chosen profession."

When no one else asked a question, Dr Greene spoke up. "To go back to the beginning, why do you wait so long to contact these families? Do you really not understand how much worry you could have saved them if you'd come sooner? If you really get their names when they are born, you have a record to start with."

"My honest answer is I don't know because we're always done it this way. And I've never been in today's situation, with children who were actually institutionalized because of accidental magic and parents actively hostile to me. Usually the family is very happy to learn the truth about their child."

"There's a first time for everything." Dr Greene's voice was dry.

Dr Aymler looked around the table. "Are we agreed to at least go forward with the orientation? Then we can make a fully informed decision on what to do next. And that includes Harry and Dean, Professor."

McGonagall nodded and Mr Thomas asked, "Would a Saturday work? I had to pull all kinds of strings just to be off work today. I'd rather not ask for another day so soon."

"I believe it can be arranged. I'll send an owl right away to try and arrange it for this Saturday or next and let you know."

"An owl? You mean a real, live owl?" Hermione's eyes were round.

"Yes, and we'll need to set up a place where it can arrive unseen. The Statute of Secrecy must be maintained."

Harry asked, "What about the tree fort? Since Toby's gone home, no one else really uses it right now but us."

"I think that will work, if you'll show it to me on my way out." McGonagall stood. "Now, if that is all I have five more visits to try and make today." She turned to Dr Aymler. "May I have my wand back, please?"

The kids all looked at one another, poised for action. Dr Aymler stood and picked up the slim and polished wand, looking it over. "I want your word that you will not use it or any kind of magic against the children, their families, or any of the staff of Esperança House. We understand that you want to keep the existence of magic a secret. We are willing to follow that. But you have to trust us with enough information to support our patients."

Professor McGonagall looked around the room. She saw the children, almost on their toes and ready to react, with their parents and doctors backing them.

She was not a stupid witch and she realized when she was outnumbered. "I promise never to perform magic on anyone in this room or anyone in Esperança House without permission, excepting a life-threatening emergency."

She took the wand when it was offered to her and looked at the children. "Would you three please show me this tree fort?"

They looked at the adults, who nodded at them, and escorted the witch out of the room. When the door closed behind her, Patrick fell back into his chair with a huge sigh. "I suppose that went as well as could be expected."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading!

One extra note: those of you who have been reviewing and have your private message option enabled know that I try to answer every review I get personally. Things are rather busy for the next several days for me, so I'm letting you know in advance that it may be a while before I get back to you.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_2 August 1991_**

Normally Professor McGonagall limited her "wee drams" to weekend evenings or occasionally before tackling a set of essays from a particularly difficult class. Knowing she would be facing the headmaster with some shocking news and several questions that he might not like, she fortified herself with a bit of liquid courage instead of breakfast.

He was in his office, signing a stack of papers from the Wizengamot. "Good morning, Minerva. How did yesterday go?"

"I managed to see them all and have orientation scheduled for tomorrow. I needed to speak to you last night. Where were you?"

"Oh, out and about in the castle, setting up a little something."

She glared at him. "Albus, don't do this. You are taking far too much risk with the students."

"It is necessary, Minerva. The Flamels have put their trust in me. Please continue preparing your part. Now, what was so important that you needed me last night?"

"When I went to visit the first student on my list, I came across an unprecedented situation."

"Unprecedented? What could be unprecedented about Muggles?"

"First, the parents in question had taken their child to a type of hospital, a place for Muggle healers of the mind to work with children with illnesses. Her letter was delivered there."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Second, Miss Granger was not the only magical child in residence there. I also met incoming students Dean Thomas…and Harry Potter."

At that, Dumbledore stared at her, open-mouthed. He then looked over at one of his many shelves where a row of silver instruments clicked softly, whirred, and sent out puffs of smoke. "That's impossible. He's with his family in Surrey."

"It was him, Albus. The mirror image of James at that age, even down to the glasses. Lily's wonderful green eyes. And that horrid scar on his forehead. He's been there since he was five years old. The doctor described in great detail how the Dursleys abandoned him there, giving them false names so they couldn't be traced."

Dumbledore rose and went over to the instruments, poking one and hearing a protesting chirp. "But these still indicate that the wards are in place. I don't understand."

"I don't care what you don't understand, Albus. We're in trouble here. The Grangers and Thomases are not committed to sending their children here yet and Harry has stated that he's not coming if his friends aren't."

Dumbledore whirled around to stare at her again. "He has to!"

"Then you had better hope that the orientation tomorrow convinces them. And you had better find out how Harry Potter could have been moved out of that house without your knowledge for five bloody years!"

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Dean went to the tree fort immediately after breakfast. They took a stack of books, a deck of cards, and Dean's sketchpad and pencils, ready to keep watch the entire day there so as not to miss the owl. This was their first chance to talk in complete privacy since McGonagall's visit. The Grangers and Thomases had spent hours venting their frustrations, spurred on by Dr Greene. The children had been all for trying this school as long as they could go together. Dr Aymler had been the voice of neutrality, helping to defuse the adults' anger while not committing to anything the kids wanted.

Harry pulled out the deck of cards before Hermione could open a book. He had a question for her and didn't want her to get lost in reading first. "Hermione, why'd you kick me yesterday? I was only going to point out that we're already getting control of what we can do." He shuffled and began dealing a poker hand.

"I thought you were going to say that. I don't think we should let on what we can do until we've got a better idea of what other kids our age can do."

"That's rather suspicious of you, Hermione." Dean looked over his cards and discarded two.

"And you don't think we have reason to be suspicious? The professor said outright that they've known we could do these things **since we were born**. And she still didn't explain why I deserved a visit and you two didn't."

"In Harry's case, it sounds like they expected him to be with his family and the family knew."

"And they obviously didn't know enough! They got frightened and ab—and abandoned him here, didn't they? And these people didn't know it happened? His letter was addressed the same as ours!" Hermione looked at her cards, sighed in exasperation, and tossed three away.

Harry kept four cards. "How about you, Dean? Your parents looked just as lost as everyone else."

"No blinking idea." Dean laid down two pair.

Hermione threw a single pair down. "If the professor or anyone else who's magical comes here again, we need to watch them. I know Dr Aymler made her promise not to do any magic on us, but I think they want to make everyone here forget about magic being real."

Harry laid down his useless hand. He'd gone for a flush and ended up with nothing. He swept the hand aside and dealt a new one. "Yeah, I didn't like McGonagall saying she'd have to **deal with** the staff. It's only Pippa who knows everything we do. And Mary delivered the letters. Everyone else just sees us as kids with the same problem."

"We know we can make people forget things. I bet they can do it, too." Hermione paused to study her cards.

Dean discarded three quickly. "So, which of you did that cool shield thing? I was trying to get her magic wand out of her hand like I did before with Moffat and the bat."

Hermione dithered and finally discarded two. "I pushed her into the wall. A little harder than I meant to."

Harry discarded two. "I think that was me. I was concentrating on protecting everyone, like a bunker or wall in between us and her."

"It was brilliant. It just sucked up whatever that light was and made it evaporate."

"I wonder what it would do to something you threw at it?" Dean asked.

They all looked at each other for a moment, then there was a mad scramble for the ladder to the ground to gather stones.

* * *

**_3 August 1991_**

Three children, two sets of parents, and a doctor gathered in the conference room. Dr Aymler was accompanying the group today after a discussion with Dr Greene. Between his more general acceptance of the uncanny and her fury over how the children had been ignored by this society, they felt he would be more likely to get through this day without assaulting someone.

A handsome barn owl had brought the letter that now lay on the conference table. The children had admired it eagerly and it appreciated the attention enough to allow them to stroke it before it took off again.

_MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_This letter will serve as your guide to your orientation. Please make sure you and anyone accompanying you are touching the letter at precisely nine-thirty the morning of 3 August. You will feel a jerking sensation and then you will be at your destination. I will await you there. Please bring your supply list with you._

_Kind regards,_

_Albert Clott_

_Muggle Liaison Office_

Aymler checked his watch. "Nine twenty-eight. Everyone lay a finger on the letter and keep it there."

They all waited, the children almost hyperventilating with excitement. When the jerk came, they gasped and cried out at the odd sensation of being hooked and reeled like a fish. After a brief sensation of whirling through space, they all landed hard on a paved surface. They got to their feet and they looked around.

"This is Kings Cross," Geoff Thomas observed.

"Yes, yes it is!" A round little man greeted them cheerfully. He was dressed as a railway attendant from the Edwardian era and made straight for Hermione. "I am Albert Clott. Am I correct in greeting Miss Hermione Granger?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir, and these are my parents." As the man began shaking hands, she continued with introductions. "This is Dean Thomas, another candidate for Hogwarts and his parents, Dr Patrick Aymler and finally one more candidate, Harry Potter."

The little man froze and would have fallen over if Patrick hadn't held him up in the middle of their handshake. "Harry Potter? **The** Harry Potter? But…but…why would you need the Muggle orientation?" As he spoke his gaze fastened onto Harry's forehead.

Harry shrugged. "No one told me I was a wizard until my letter arrived, sir."

"Astonishing!" Clott visibly pulled himself together. "I do apologise. We will do our absolute best for The Boy Who Lived, of course. Now, we are meeting five other families who should start arriving on this spot in less than a minute. May I ask you to step over here and wait? Thank you so much!"

As Clott returned to hover over the arrival spot, the group huddled together. Hermione broke the thoughtful silence.

"What on earth do they mean by 'The Boy Who Lived'? It's like Harry is famous for some reason – Professor McGonagall recognized him as soon as she noticed him, too."

Harry shrugged when everyone looked at him. "How should I know? The only thing I remember my aunt and uncle telling me about my parents was that they died in a car crash when I was a baby. That's where I got the scar on my face. If you believe my uncle, they might even have been drunk."

"Given what Dr Greene and I know of your aunt and uncle, I wouldn't believe anything they said," Dr Aymler observed.

They looked up at a surprised shout. A boy and his parents were getting to their feet and dusting themselves off. The parents were extremely well-dressed and Viola Granger blinked. "That's Amaryllis Finch-Fletchley! Who would have thought?"

Harry was looking at the boy, also smartly dressed. "Who is she?"

"She's a rather important society figure. Not quite Royal Enclosure, mind, but very active. She does a lot of work for charities, preserving historical places and the like."

Clott had directed the newcomers over and Mr Finch-Fletchley held out a hand to Robert Granger. "Addison Finch-Fletchley. My wife, Amaryllis, our son Justin."

Robert made introductions, emphasizing the "doctors" to soften Amaryllis' rather pained expression at mingling with the commoners. The kids ignored this by-play, introducing themselves and listening politely as Justin talked about having to decide between Eton and Hogwarts.

Eventually the group grew to eight eleven-year-olds and fourteen adults. Clott asked them all to join him at a narrow end of a wall separating platforms nine and ten. A few commuters gave them curious glances, but assumed it was some odd sort of tour upon seeing Clott in his sweeping blue uniform and shiny brass buttons.

"Now, the first thing I'm going to demonstrate is how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. One must walk through this section of wall and you will be taken to the platform where the Hogwarts Express will be waiting. Unfortunately, only magical people can do this, so parents, when you drop your children off on the first of September you'll say your goodbyes here. Children, please watch me and then follow me through. When we're all on the other side and I've shown you what you'll need, we'll return the same way. If you're nervous, try running. Just keep in mind that you'll run straight through." With that, Clott walked into the wall and disappeared.

Dean's "Wicked!" was the loudest among the astonished reactions and he immediately ran up to the wall and touched it. "It feels solid when you do this!" He ran a hand across the bricks. "Solid, but kind of tingly."

The other girl, Sally-Anne Perks, looked nervous. "So, who's first?"

Harry stepped forward. "I'll try." He began walking at the wall, speeding up his pace as he went. At the last second he closed his eyes and jumped at the wall.

He landed on the other side, but didn't open his eyes until he heard the wizard. "Well done, Mr Potter! I should have guessed you'd be first!"

Any other effusive praise for Harry was cut off as Dean appeared, quickly followed by the girls holding hands, and the rest of the boys in quick succession. Clott clapped his hands. "Marvellous! I don't think I've ever had a group this smart! Now, you see the track where the train will be. You'll need to board quickly and find yourselves compartments. There will be space for your trunks in them. The first car is reserved for any groups that must meet during the trip and the second car is generally considered for the prefects. We don't serve a luncheon—we have a lady with a trolley of sweets and snacks—so you might consider packing something if you tend to get very hungry. It's a bit of a ride to Hogsmeade station. You'll be expected to change into your school robes by the time we arrive. Are there any questions?"

Justin asked, "Do we need tickets, sir?"

"Yes, my boy. I will have them when I meet you again at the end of the day and will give them to those who give me their acceptance that they'll be attending. Normally you'd do this by owl, Mr Potter, but I will happily take care of it for you."

"Dean Thomas, too, sir."

Clott looked slightly confused at Harry's reply but nodded.

Another boy, Terry Boot, piped up. "You said we needed a trunk, sir? A holdall isn't good enough?"

"Well, my boy, keep in mind that you'll be staying at Hogwarts for months at a time, only home for Christmas and Easter. The usual thing at Hogwarts is to have a nice large trunk to hold everything. You can get them in Diagon Alley with all kinds of charms on them: make them bigger on the inside, blood locks so they'll only open to you, Cushioning Charms so nothing will break. Then you sit the trunk at the foot of your bed and everything is in one place. It's quite helpful since you generally share your quarters with several other students." He looked around, but none of them had more questions. "All right then, back through the gate and back to your parents!"

* * *

Clott gave the children a few minutes to tell their parents what they'd seen on the other side of platform nine and three quarters before reclaiming their attention. "Now, we are about to travel together to Diagon Alley. The Muggle way to get there is through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. The pub is on Charing Cross Road next to a large bookshop. It looks tiny and grubby and it's very easy for Muggles to miss, so be sure to look carefully. We also use the floo network. There is a chamber for portkey arrival, which is what you did to get here and what we're about to do again. Once there, I'll show you how to get into Diagon Alley and leave you to your shopping. I will return to the Leaky Cauldron at four this afternoon to give the children their train tickets and provide you with portkeys home, or you can go through the Leaky Cauldron into Charing Cross and return under your own power if you prefer. Any questions?"

Harry raised a hand. "Sir, is there a way for a wizard to just move themselves? Like teleporting?"

Clott laughed. "You mean Apparition! Let me guess, did it accidentally, did you?" At Harry's nod, Clott laughed again. "I'm not surprised. It happens sometimes. But Apparition is rather like Muggles learning to drive those automover things. You'll learn how to do it properly in your sixth year and test for your Apparition licence when you turn seventeen. In the meantime, there are portkeys that ministry officials can arrange and anyone can use the floo network through a fireplace that is connected to it. We also have the Knight Bus—just hold out your wand and it'll stop for you!" He pulled a long skipping rope from a pocket. "Now, everyone grab hold and don't let go. Next stop, the Leaky Cauldron!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading!


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_3 August 1991_**

This time about half of the group kept their feet, helping the rest up as they looked around. They were in a large half-timbered room that hearkened back to Elizabethan times. Clott coiled the rope and moved to the door. "The Leaky Cauldron was built around 1500 by an innkeeper named Daisy Dodderidge. It is a pub serving food and drink at all hours and has several rooms for those needing an overnight stay. Tom's the current owner – he looks a bit scary but wouldn't hurt a fly."

Clott led them into a large room dominated by a pair of fireplaces on either end. People dressed in odd, colourful robes and a variety of hats turned to look at this large group before going back to their plates and tankards. Clott waved and pointed. "The fireplaces are on the floo; just take a pinch of the powder from the silver urns, throw it in and step in when the flames turn green. Then state your destination clearly and off you go!" As he spoke, one of the fires turned green and a wizard in violently purple robes slid out, landing on one knee and rising gracefully to shake the soot off.

Clott pointed out the Charing Cross entrance and then led them through a back door into a small courtyard with high brick walls. "Now, this is the entrance to Diagon Alley. The only way to open it is with your wand. You'll want this brick, three up and two over from this one that's a little lighter than the others. Watch!" He took out a wand, started with the indicated brick, and went up and over. "And tap three times!"

Everyone watched with amazement as the wall seemed to melt from the centre and dissolve until there was an arch big enough for three to walk abreast. Clott led them through and waved an arm. "And here you are! Diagon Alley! I recommend you start with Gringotts, the large white building down there. They'll change your money into Galleons and then off you go to the shops! It's best to stay on Diagon Alley itself – some of the side streets are a little dodgy. Everyone have their supply list? Any questions?" He hesitated only a brief moment. "Then I'll see you all back here at four!" And with no more warning than that, he disappeared with a loud _crack_.

"He…he just left us?" a small, mousy woman quavered.

_Kevin Entwhistle's mum_, Hermione remembered. "We'll be all right. We know he's coming back for us, and if we need to we just go back through this arch to the pub and out to London proper."

Dr Aymler took charge. "All right, let's stick together for now. If we want to divide up or get separated, we'll meet back here at noon and at two-thirty. As the clod said, bank first." With that, he led the rest down the street toward the shining marble bank that towered over the rest of the buildings.

They moved together down the street, trying not to stare at the scene in front of them. Most of the people wore robes and hats. When combined with the cobblestone street, shops with hanging signs almost touching overhead from either side, and little stalls in every nook and cranny, Harry felt he'd stepped into a Dickens story. He stayed in the middle of the group and tried to flatten his hair so that it covered his scar, as it seemed to be how people verified who he was. Hermione was walking beside him and took his hand to squeeze sympathetically. It startled him – he had felt jumpy ever since they arrived at the pub and the very air felt charged with energy.

Everywhere they looked there was something new. The shops alone were amazing with the variety of things that witches and wizards must need, and the people in their outlandish clothes were just as interesting. Hermione took note of the bookstore while Wayne Hopkins scoffed at a stationers' selling quills and parchment. Harry understood—a biro and notebook seemed much more practical.

As they approached the steps to the large white building, they could see GRINGOTTS above the massive doors, outlined in gold. A guard stood at attention next to the doors, in a splendid uniform of scarlet and gold. As they got closer, Dr Aymler and the other adults paused – the guard was not human.

Harry exchanged glances with Hermione, who stepped forward before he could say anything. She approached the creature and curtsied as best she could in her jeans and trainers. "Excuse me sir, do we ask your permission to enter the bank?"

The thing's eyebrows lifted, then it showed its teeth. Hermione held her breath but stood her ground and it gave an unmistakable chuckle. "You may enter as you wish, child. My only job is to look impressive."

"And you do it very well, sir. Thank you."

Now the thing looked startled at the compliment. It showed its teeth again. "You are most welcome. A pleasure to meet a polite witch for a change."

Dr Aymler immediately picked up the implication. "So that we can keep being polite, sir, may I ask what you are? We were only told that the magical bank is Gringotts."

It tilted its head. "Ah, these children are Muggleborn, then? And you must have had Clott as your guide. A waste of good meat, he is." The thing straightened to its full height, which was only about as tall as Dean. "I am a member of the race of goblins. We run the bank and handle financial matters for most wizards. When you enter the second set of doors, go first to the desk on the left and the goblin behind the desk will help you."

Dr Aymler held out his hand and the goblin looked at it warily. Hermione jumped in. "He meant for you to shake hands, like this. It's one of the ways we greet each other and say thank you. What do you do, sir?"

"Ah, curious." The goblin gingerly shook with the doctor. "In my culture this would be the beginning of a duel. Goblins nod to greet and thank one another."

Everyone in the group paled slightly and began nodding. The goblin returned the gesture, showing a large amount of teeth. "You have made my morning interesting, humans. Thank you."

They entered the bronze doors and paused, reading the inscription on the set of silver doors:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware,_

_Of finding more than treasure there.  
_

They let the message sink in for a moment, then opened the silver doors. They paused and looked around for a moment, awestruck. Goblins sat on high stools behind a very long counter. Some were counting stacks of coins, others were weighing incredible gemstones, and more were comparing long lists of figures and scribbling madly. Doors were everywhere, leading to other parts of the bank, and goblins and the occasional human went in and out. Hermione spotted the desk and led the others to it.

Applying her same strategy as before, she curtsied to the goblin sitting at the desk. "I humbly beg your pardon, sir. The guard outside said you could help us. We need to change our money to wizard money and perhaps open accounts?"

The goblin, dressed in an interesting combination of suit jacket, wizard robe, and armoured breastplate, rose and nodded. "Welcome to Gringotts. I am Trobnor and I can guide you through the bank." He picked up a blank parchment. "If I may have the names of the students, we can offer a basic account with a minimum deposit of ten Galleons. We are capable of magically linking this account to any current Muggle account so parents may deposit sterling into the Muggle account and the student may withdraw galleons from our account."

Trobnar showed his teeth at the appreciative noises they all made. "We can also arrange for Hogwarts tuition to be withdrawn automatically, either on a yearly basis or on whatever schedule you arrange with the school." Addison Finch-Fletchley stepped forward, and as the queue began to form Harry pulled Robert and Mr Thomas back.

"I'll ask him about my inheritance when he's done. I meant what I said: if I have enough money to do it I'm paying for Hermione and Dean."

Robert shook his head. "Harry, we can manage just fine. We've had an education account for Hermione since before she was born, although we intended it for her university expenses and backup in case she chose to go abroad. You really don't have to do this."

Geoff Thomas grimaced. "We, on the other hand, aren't so lucky. If it means Dean can stay with his friends who have this same…magic that he does, we'll take you up on it." He shook hands with Harry, who then hurried forward to the waiting goblin who was watching them closely.

"My name's Harry Potter, sir, and I was told that my parents had an account here?"

Trobnor's eyes widened and he actually stammered. "Er, yes, yes, you do have an account here. We've been keeping it safe and untouched even when Albus Dumbledore threatened to sue us for keeping him out."

Harry frowned. The name rang a bell, but he didn't immediately place it. He heard Hermione gasp behind him but ignored her for the moment. "What do you need me to do, sir?"

"Follow me." Trobnor led Harry to one of the goblins behind the long counter. "Griphook, I need your assistance. This is Harry Potter and he needs a key issued to his vault."

The new goblin looked Harry up and down. "That is no problem. I will need a drop of your blood to prove identity." Harry nodded and the goblin produced a bowl from under the counter. He took out a sharp knife and held out a hand with very long fingers. "It only takes a drop, so I will prick your finger with the point of my blade." Harry put his hand in the goblin's. One quick careful stab later, Harry watched in astonishment as the drop of blood in the bowl began to shimmer and grow, turning into a small ornate gold key.

Dean had followed Harry and breathed, "Wicked!" as Harry picked up the key. Griphook sniffed slightly, then fastened his eyes onto Dean, taking deeper breaths.

"You, what's your name?"

Dean stepped back slightly, frightened. "Dean Thomas, sir."

The goblin inhaled again. "What was your father's name?"

Dean gestured weakly toward the adults. "Geoffrey Thomas, sir."

Griphook sniffed in their direction. "No, not him. You don't smell a thing like him. I mean the one who sired you!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Harry jumped in before Dean could lose it. "Please sir, we don't understand."

Griphook glared at Dean's parents, who had noticed something was wrong and were headed their way. "Your father was a wizard. I can smell it, but I can't place him."

Andrea Thomas surged forward and threw her arms around Dean protectively. "What are you doing to my son?"

Griphook leaned forward and inhaled. "Yes, you're the mother. But who is the boy's father?"

Mrs Thomas faltered at his question. "How did you know?"

Griphook tapped the side of his very long nose. "We goblins can tell. It's one of the reasons disguises don't work here."

She looked uncertainly at her husband, who shrugged. "Now's as good a time as any, love."

She turned to Dean and hugged him hard. "I was going to tell you when you were older. Your father…your father disappeared soon after you were born. I reported him missing but the police couldn't do much. No body ever turned up, no evidence, no credit card records. Geoff was my rock. I went through an uncontested divorce and married Geoff after your father was missing for a year."

"Name, please?" Griphook wasn't showing a single tooth and Harry got the impression that he was getting impatient.

Andrea wiped her teary eyes with her hand. "Alexander Demirci."

Griphook sniffed again and nodded. "Thank you. If I may repeat this process with you for our records, we can transfer your father's vault to your name. Aside from a few charity bequests, he left everything to you."

"You know he's dead, then?" Geoff asked. "Do you know when?"

Griphook summoned another goblin and sent him off at a run. "We will provide you with all the information we have, including when the will was activated."

Dean had already been stunned at his mother's revelation. The idea that his birth father had a vault as well reduced him to staring. He didn't even react as Griphook pricked his finger over the bowl and put the resulting key into his hand.

"Now, I can take you both to your vaults where you will be able to withdraw funds for today's expenses." The errand-runner returned with sheaves of parchment in each hand. Griphook looked them over. "There are certainly adequate funds for tuition at Hogwarts for each of you and you may authorize those payments at any time." He rolled up each set of records and handed them to the boys. "You may look over your finances at your leisure."

Hermione ran up to them as Harry led Dean and his parents away. "I have my vault! Mum and Dad put a hundred pounds in and we changed five hundred to Galleons. Look at these!" She pulled a handful of large gold coins out of a bag. "They said the bag has charms on it to make it weightless and thief-proof, how brilliant is that?"

When neither boy answered her, Hermione looked at them uncertainly. "Everything all right?"

Harry glanced at the Thomases, who still looked shell-shocked. "We just found out that Dean's father was a wizard who vanished when Dean was a baby. Mr Thomas is technically his stepfather."

"Oh, wow." Hermione stepped forward and hugged Dean. That seemed to bring him out of his daze. She continued, "That explains why I was the only one being treated as not knowing anything about magic. They assumed you both would know because you had magical parents."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really effective system they have there."

Griphook waved at them. "Mr Potter, Mr Demirci-Thomas, please follow me." Harry pulled Dean along and they followed the goblin through a door. The chamber they entered was a complete contrast to the elegant hall they had left. They were now in a massive cavern, lit by wavering torches. Griphook led them to a contraption that looked like a cross between a miners' cart and a roller-coaster car. The track led both ways into darkness.

Behind them, another goblin called to Griphook in their native language. He helped the boys into the cart and then nodded to the newcomer. "Mr Hagrid. Where to?"

"I need the you-know-what in vault seven hundred thirteen. Dumbledore's orders."

Both boys looked up at the man with wild black hair and a full beard. Way up.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The inscription on the doors of Gringotts is quoted from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, pp. 56-57.

I know my method of Harry getting his Hogwarts key is similar to at least a few other fanfics. I think it was one of **robst**'s stories where I read it, but if someone knows it's from another author, let me know and I will credit appropriately.

Thank you as always for reading!


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

**Scheduling note:** My life is currently lived by the academic calendar. Said calendar is about to get supremely busy for a while. In order to ensure that I will be able to stay on track in my writing, I'm going to have to slow updates to once a month for the next couple of months. I hope to be back to bimonthly in June. Apologies for disappointing anyone, but I'd rather keep on a schedule I feel I can maintain instead of disappear for ages and leave readers uncertain. So, next chapter at the end of April.

* * *

_**3 August 1991**_

Harry and Dean stared as the huge man approached. He looked them over. "You two look about the size o' first years. I'm Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. What's yer names, boys?"

"I'm Dean Thomas. He's Harry—"

"Harry Potter! It is you! I haven't seen you since you were a wee thing! Look a lot like yer father, ye do."

Any questions Harry wanted to ask were cut off as Griphook took the first seat of the cart. "Hold on."

They took off at an incredible speed, twisting up and down hills like a roller coaster but spiralling lower and lower into the caverns. Over the noise Harry thought he could hear Hagrid groaning. The cart stopped suddenly, surprising everyone but the goblin. Griphook hopped out. "Mr Potter, this is your vault for school expenses." He led Harry to an ornate silver door and held out a hand for the key. Harry handed it over and Griphook gave him a pouch similar to the one Hermione had shown them. "I recommend around three hundred Galleons, just to be sure."

Harry felt his jaw drop at the sight of so much money. Piles of gold, silver and bronze reached the roof of a space he could almost stand up in. Dazed, he pushed piles into the apparently bottomless bag until Griphook told him to stop. He climbed back into the cart with his bag and key.

Hagrid was looking a bit pale. He patted Harry on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. "Now yer all set. Ye can have yer aunt and uncle hold yer bag while you shop."

Harry whirled to face him. "My aunt and uncle? What do you know about them?"

Hagrid frowned and began to answer, but his reply turned into a whimper as the cart took off again.

The next stop was Dean's vault, with an even larger and more ornate golden door. Griphook explained, "This is your family vault. It contains everything: money, jewellery, heirlooms and so forth. It's all itemized in your papers to study later." He turned to Harry. "Your family vault is near this one and you have the same lists."

The information that he had an even larger vault distracted Harry. He barely registered the exclamation of "Bloody hell!" as Dean stepped in and turned around, looking up and taking in the amount of wealth inside. Behind him, Hagrid was moaning as if he were going to be sick.

The last leg of their journey took them even deeper. Harry watched, trying to get his bearings. He blinked when going past a side corridor full of light; if he didn't know better he would have sworn that he'd seen a dragon bellowing flames.

At the final stop, Griphook led a staggering Hagrid to a simplistic carving in the stone wall. Instead of using a key, Griphook dragged one long finger down a certain line in the design. The design vanished into mist, revealing a small cavern. Harry and Dean looked eagerly, but only saw Hagrid remove a small something wrapped in brown paper, leaving the vault completely empty. Hagrid shoved the parcel deep into a pocket and climbed back into the cart with resignation.

"If ye don't mind, boys, best not to mention that you saw me here."

They nodded, mystified.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore Apparated to the back door of number four Privet Drive and hesitated before knocking. His ears had already taken a battering from Arabella Figg, who had seized him by his long beard and let him know exactly how she felt about being essentially ignored for years before he could even begin. He would much rather retreat back to Hogwarts and recover before tackling the Dursleys, but there would be no rest there either. Minerva was stalking him, waiting for an opportunity to tear into him again.

He was being ridiculous. _I'm Albus Dumbledore. I'm the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I was awarded the Order of Merlin. I've been headmaster at the premier school of magic approaching forty years. I can handle a few women._ Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

He could hear a distant bellowed "Who's that who comes on a Saturday and the back door at that?" and then the sound of heels tapping across a floor. The door opened to reveal Petunia Dursley, whose mouth fell open in horror.

"You! How dare you! You swore you would never come here again!"

"Good morning to you, too, Petunia. May I come in or do you wish to keep shouting at me in full hearing of your neighbours? I did use the back garden to be a bit more discreet."

Her eyes darting around frantically, she stepped aside to give him room to enter and swiftly shut the door. "What are you doing here?"

He opted to be blunt and possibly have the advantage in a conversation for the first time all day. "Harry was discovered to be at a mental health facility this week when his Hogwarts letter was delivered there. My deputy headmistress says that he's been there for over five years. Why did you break your promise?"

Petunia stammered, "He was a freak! He kept making things happen and then he just **appeared **out of **thin air**. It would have gotten worse and once he started school he would have been doing it in public! It wasn't fair to force us to try and control him! Vernon insisted that he go to a place where they could deal with his abnormalities!"

"Petunia? What's going on in there?" Sounds of someone struggling out of a chair preceded Vernon Dursley. When he appeared in the doorframe, his face immediately flushed red. "**YOU**! Get your freaky old arse out of here! The boy is gone and he is never coming back!"

Dumbledore pulled out his wand, Silencing both of them and putting Durlsey into a full Body-Bind. "The damage is done. Your nephew is just about to enter Hogwarts where he will be taught proper control of his magic. I also daresay from what I have just witnessed that he was raised with more kindness in hospital than he would have been with you. My only remaining question is how my blood wards stayed in place without Harry here." He circled slowly with his wand out, concentrating on the feel of the barriers around the property.

"Yes, they feel exactly the same as they did the day I cast them. But without Harry, that means something went wrong with the casting." He pulled a chair from the dining table and sat, waving for Petunia to join him. With one very nervous glance at Vernon, she did so. He released the Silencing charm on her.

"Petunia, those wards were designed to protect both Harry and your family as his only blood relatives as long as he resided here. The wards are still the way they were after I set them almost ten years ago. I followed the instructions exactly. It should be impossible for Harry to be elsewhere without them collapsing. I realize that you may not even know this, but is there anything I have missed? Harry is your sister's child, your blood relative, this is your home, and as long as Harry called your house his home—"

"It's not my house, technically," Petunia offered in a small, quavering voice.

"Explain that, please. You live here."

"The house…it's in Vernon's name. He bought it after his mother passed. Yes, I live here, but Vernon brought me here after we were married."

Dumbledore stared at her in shock. _Is it that simple? Do these rituals depend so on Muggle technicalities when the magic is focused on intent?_ Petunia continued to babble.

"It's one of the reasons I work so hard to keep the house neat for Vernon. He trusts me to care for his home, to take care of him and Dudley. And the little freak upset all that. Even when he did the chores correctly, there was always the danger of someone seeing him do something abnormal—"

"Excuse me? What chores could a five-year-old possibly handle?"

"He, er…he cleaned and took care of the garden and sometimes cooked. He was just about big enough to start washing Vernon's car and cutting the lawn—"

Dumbledore paled. "You forced a child that young to work so much?"

"Of course, it wasn't like I would let my precious Dudley lift a finger—"

Dumbledore jabbed his wand at her, Silencing her once more and casting a full Body-Bind to keep her in place. He stood and began pacing the room, pondering both his catastrophic mistake and how much work it was going to take to repair it. He made his first decision easily enough.

Waving his wand in a circle above his head, he intoned, "For cause of the broken promise and the broken foundation, let the wards of this place fall!" He felt the magic wash over him as the wards flew apart. He had no easy way to test if they had ever been effective against Death Eaters as Severus, the only former Death Eater he could trust, was still on his trip through South America to harvest valuable potion ingredients. He turned to the Dursleys, still frozen in place.

"I am leaving now and I expect that we will never cross paths again. However…" Dumbledore glanced around the pristine kitchen and spied a particularly hideous teapot. Judging from its place on a higher shelf it probably was not used very often. He Summoned it down and released the Silencing charm on Petunia. "How often do you use this teapot?"

"N-never. It was a gift from a cousin of Vernon's. He moved to Australia years ago."

"Excellent." Dumbledore waved his wand in the correct movement and muttered, "_Portus_." He Levitated it back, but to a shelf below where it had been, within Petunia's easy reach. "I do not expect that you will have any trouble, as the wards showed no interference at all for many years. However, if I am wrong and you find yourselves attacked, everyone needs to put a hand on the teapot. As soon as all of you are touching it, saying 'Dumbledore' will activate this Portkey and send you directly to my private office at Hogwarts, where you will be safe. Do you understand?"

Unable to nod due to the Body-Bind still in place, Petunia mumbled, "I understand."

Dumbledore released both of them and Disapparated before Vernon could draw breath to bellow.

* * *

Once they were back in the main hall of the bank, Harry and Dean raced to find Hermione so they could introduce her to the enormous Hagrid who worked at Hogwarts. By the time they found her, conversing eagerly with a goblin who was showing her how he calculated the worth of the gemstones in front of him, Hagrid had left the bank.

Dr Aymler looked over the list and suggested that they try the clothing shop first. "It's possible that they'll only need to make minor alterations on a standard uniform and we'll be able to pick them up on the way out this afternoon."

Everyone nodded but Dean, who was flipping through the parchments that listed his assets. "I want to do one more thing here. We'll catch up."

Mystified, the Thomases followed Dean back to the counters. Dean approached Griphook and nodded, then bowed slightly. "Can I ask for a few more minutes of your time, sir?"

Griphook nodded, showing his teeth in what Dean suddenly realized was the goblin version of a smile. Encouraged, Dean continued, "If I'm reading this list of yours correctly, this figure is the amount of ready cash in wizard money that is currently in the vault. Is that right?"

Griphook looked at where Dean was pointing and nodded.

"And according to that lady from Hogwarts, multiplying that number by five will give us a rough total in pounds."

Griphook nodded again. "The exchange rate today is actually six point naught two five English pounds to one Galleon."

Dean turned to his parents. "Da, Mum, how much do you think you'll need to buy a proper house?"

Their eyes widened in shock. Andrea found her voice first. "Dean, you can't possibly mean that! To stay close enough to London so your da could travel to his job would be a hundred fifty thousand pounds, easy!"

Dean turned back to Griphook. "Could you please change a hundred thousand Galleons into pounds and transfer it to my parents' bank account?"

Griphook bowed to him. "It will be done within ten minutes, Mr Demirci-Thomas."

Dean nodded to him. "Thank you very much for all your help."

Griphook nodded back. "It has been a pleasure to work with you. We at Gringotts will endeavour to be at your service at any time." He retreated to his spot at the counter, waving for another goblin to attend him.

Both adults stared at Dean. Geoffrey found his voice first. "Son, what did you just do?"

"I put enough money into your account to buy us a house. I added extra so you'd be able to choose anywhere and to cover any tax stuff. I suppose I could have asked Griphook for help on that." Dean made as if to go to the counter again, but Andrea grabbed his shoulder.

"No, dear, that's more than enough. But you shouldn't have given us all of your money like that!"

"It wasn't all my money, Mum. Here, look!" Dean held out the parchment, pointing to the same number as before.

Andrea Thomas saw seven figures in the number and Geoffrey had to catch her before her knees gave way.

* * *

The group found the robe shop with "Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions" in golden scrolling letters across the top of the display window. Before Dr Aymler could lead them in, Ms Entwhistle spoke up.

"I don't think we'll be able to do this. It's…it's too much. And we can't afford the prices that the McGonagall woman mentioned, even with help."

Harry stepped forward. "I just found out my parents left me lots of money. I could help if you like."

Kevin, a fair boy who had been rather quiet all day, shook his head. "I asked the professor about the size of the school. There's hundreds of students there. I don't think I could stand it, being around so many people and so far away. And she said that the other school in the south wasn't very far from where we live. I could be a day boy if I went there." He looked down for a moment. "Mum and me, we've no other family. I don't think I could leave her alone, September to June."

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm before he could protest again and spoke. "That sounds like the best plan for you, then. How will you let Mr Clott know?"

Ms Entwhistle smiled at her. "We told McGonagall right away that we might have to look at other options. She told us they have a little office here and where it is. We'll go now and talk to them. If we don't see you later, I hope you all have the best of luck with this."

Kevin began shaking hands all around. When he got to Hermione, she held on. "Give us your address so we can keep in touch, all right?" He willingly added it to Robert's address book and then waved at them all once more as he and his mother started down the street.

Harry spotted Dean and his parents leaving Gringotts and shouted to them. As they approached, Sally-Ann Perks sidled up to Hermione and squeezed her arm. "Now we get to buy our clothes!"

Hermione almost succeeded in keeping her eyes from rolling.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading.


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_3 August 1991_**

The large group entering the shop immediately captured the attention of two young women in robes pattered in vivid pink-and-orange stripes. Hermione realized that the eye-watering combination served to make the shopgirls easy to spot against the riot of colours from the racks of robes.

"Welcome to Madam Malkin's! New Hogwarts students, right?"

All the children nodded and the taller girl waved a hand. "I'll take the girls over here. Boys, follow Naomi." She waved the adults to a row of seats near the entrance. "We won't be long."

Hermione and Sally-Anne climbed up onto stools and pulled on the oversized robes. The clerk began tracing Hermione's hem with a wand, marking the cloth to the proper length while Sally-Anne felt the thick black cloth and flapped experimentally.

"Why is it so heavy?"

The clerk answered, "You'll want it, believe me. A draughty castle in Scotland and this your only layer? You don't learn Warming Charms for a while and even then you have to keep reapplying them."

Hermione frowned as she loosened the front of the robe. "Is there something wrong with wearing our regular clothes underneath? These are certainly loose enough."

The clerk looked up at her. "You mean Muggle clothes? Why would you want to?" She pointed at Hermione's jeans. "Those things look **so** uncomfortable!"

Hermione glared. "At least I won't be flashing my knickers if I get caught in one of those draughts you mentioned." She pulled the robe off and tossed it into the clerk's arms. "Got anything in a lighter material?"

The girl glared back, but any retort she had would remain unsaid. A heavy woman in flowing mauve robes had appeared. "Is there a problem here, Marigold?"

The clerk hesitated and Hermione replied, "She seemed to have a superior opinion about the kind of clothing that some of your customers prefer to wear. I would like to know if you have robes for Hogwarts in lighter materials, as I intend to wear my usual wardrobe under them."

The woman offered a slight bow. "I am Madam Malkin and I wish to beg pardon. We can certainly accommodate your request. I presume all of you are Muggleborn?" At Hermione's nod, she turned to Marigold. "Offer your apologies for your rudeness and then fetch the summer-weight robes. Make sure the young men have the same choices."

Hermione murmured a thank-you as the clerk apologised and retreated. Sally-Anne shrugged off the heavy robe and held it in front of her. "Might be a good idea to get some of each. Scotland can get really cold in winter."

Hermione nodded. "I think we can learn that Warming Charm she mentioned really quickly, though. The list said three sets of robes, perhaps three of the summer-weight and two of these for when it's really cold? Can you afford the extras?"

Sally-Anne smiled. "Daddy works in computers. He's doing quite well; they're flying him over to San Francisco next month. Mummy even said that we might be moving there next year."

"So you might wind up transferring to one of the North American schools?"

Sally-Anne's eyes grew big. "There are magic schools there, too?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall mentioned them when she talked to us."

Marigold returned and handed the girls black robes in a light, silky material. Without saying another word she marked the robes to the right length and took them away to finish them. Hermione hopped down and went toward the boys while Sally-Anne began browsing the racks.

Justin and Harry were up on stools while the other three boys talked. Dean moved to let Hermione join them. "All done?"

"Yes, we got some of both kinds, the lighter ones for wearing over our clothes normally and the ones they brought out first for any really cold days."

Dean nodded. "I still can't believe they aren't wearing anything under these robes. There's no way that's all I'd wear." The other boys nodded as Harry got off his stool and Dean took his place.

Harry bumped Hermione's shoulder with his own. "I am so glad we got to do this as a group. Can you imagine having to go through this by yourself?"

She shuddered. "No, it would be awful. Don't even say it."

Naomi steered Justin and Dean over to them. "We'll have your robes ready in half an hour. Most students duck into Flourish and Blotts next door, get their books, and come back."

At the mention of books, Hermione lit up and Harry and Dean laughed. Harry turned to the other boys. "Gents, we have an important mission, one that is critical to our success the rest of the day." The other boys looked at him, expectant and intrigued.

"We'll need your help dragging Hermione out of the bookstore on time."

They all laughed and Hermione stuck out her tongue at him.

* * *

It took a promise from her parents and Dr Aymler that they would return the following weekend to pry Hermione out of the bookstore in time to collect their robes. Even then she added half a dozen extra books, mostly recommended for background reading by the clerk. As they left Madam Malkin's a second time, a girl their age with heavy black curls and green robes passed them and gave them a slightly sneering glance.

The group made quick work of much of the list and were exiting the apothecary, on their way to Ollivander's for wands, when Justin stopped short in front of Eeylop's Owl Emporium. "Mother, Father, look! We could get our own owl for delivering letters just like the professor's!"

The other children began looking eagerly at the windows and the adults traded resigned looks and shepherded them in.

They exited with four cages, each containing an owl. Justin's mother had chosen a cute tiny Scops owl. The Boots had gone with a sleek barn owl. Dean had a stately great horned owl with a mischievous gleam in its eye and Harry was talking softly to a snowy white owl that had fastened her gaze on him, then flown to his shoulder and settled.

Sally-Anne's mother vetoed an owl on the grounds that they might be moving out of the country. Wayne Hopkins didn't have enough money and refused when Harry and Dean offered to lend him some. And Hermione, after studying all the owls closely, decided against buying one, saying that none of them spoke to her.

* * *

After observing the single rickety chair in the cramped space, Aymler agreed to accompany the children inside the wand shop while the parents took the owls in their cages and claimed a few tables at the ice cream shop they had passed several storefronts back. The wand shop had the hush of a library and they looked in awe at what must have been thousands of narrow boxes piled on shelves to the high ceiling. That charged sensation in the air was much stronger than outside. Harry felt as if he could create sparks if he sneezed. Dean's fingers were fluttering the way they did when he was itching to draw something and Hermione stepped forward, about to reach a hand out to touch the boxes.

"Good afternoon, good afternoon to you all." An old man with disconcerting pale eyes slipped from behind a curtain. He looked them over before fastening his eyes on Harry. "Harry Potter. I knew I'd be seeing you soon, but I didn't expect you with the Muggleborn group. Interesting. I remember your parents well. You look rather like your father—mahogany wand, eleven inches, nice power, good for Transfiguration—but those eyes could only be your mother's. Her wand was ten and a quarter inches, made of nice swishy willow, excellent for Charms." Harry's eyes widened at this information, but before he could speak, Ollivander stepped forward and waved vaguely at them. The children fell into a line with Terry Boot first. Ollivander peered down the line at Dean. "You seem familiar as well. Who are your parents?"

Dean glanced at the others, reluctant to be put on the spot. "Well, my mum is a regular person, but I just learned at Gringotts that my dad was named Alexander Demirci."

"Ah, yes. I did not sell him a wand but he would come in for polish and such. He actually went to Africa and learned to make his own—marula wood with a core of sphinx mane, fascinating combination. I only use dragon heartstring, phoenix tail feathers, and unicorn hair in my wands, but no two are alike just as no two dragons, phoenixes or unicorns are alike. Your wand will choose you and you'll get the best results from it rather than another one." He moved Terry over to his table and began quizzing him about his wand hand, a tape measure moving on its own to measure Terry's arm in a dozen ways.

Harry's eyes were drawn again to the shelves crammed with wands. He whispered to Hermione, "Do you feel a bit jumpy in here?"

She nodded. "Like there's something in the air, calling to us. I just want to reach out and follow it…" She lifted a hand, trying to sort out where the pull was, and then various shouts of surprise erupted as eight random boxes shot out of the shelves toward her. Dean managed to catch one and Harry snagged two in rapid succession, but the rest pelted her and fell to the floor, spilling out wands with a clatter.

Ollivander spun around, his large eyes even more unsettling as they widened. He left Terry and hurried over as the children picked up the wands and boxes.

Hermione stammered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. It just felt like something was calling me. I can pay if any are damaged."

Ollivander gathered the wands and looked them over carefully in growing astonishment. He turned his gaze to her. "Amazing. It's been a very long time since I had a new customer so in tune with her magic as to call her own wand." He spread the eight wands on the table and waved Hermione over. "All of these wands have dragon heartstrings as their cores…from the same dragon. One of these will undoubtedly be the proper wand for you. Here, take them one at a time and give a wave."

Her confidence returning, Hermione began. Each one sent up a shower of purple sparks, like miniature fireworks. The sixth one, carved prettily with a vine trailing leaves, burst with the largest show of fireworks, gold and silver among the purple, and Ollivander smiled.

"I believe that's the one. Try the last ones, just to be sure."

Hermione did, producing inferior results, then accepted the vine wood wand in a box and helped to re-box and stack the rest. He clapped his hands together. "Now, that's one. I don't suppose anyone else feels like calling their wand to them?"

His joke promptly backfired as both Harry and Dean raised their hands and half-a-dozen boxes flew at them. Ollivander and the other children stared.

Aymler grinned from his position near the door.

* * *

Ollivander was looking over the wands and paused, blinking, at one box. "Curious. Very curious." He pulled out the wand that had caught his attention and handed it to Harry. "Give that one a wave."

Harry did so, instantly producing a stream of red and gold fireworks that danced in the dusty air. He paused to look at the piece of wood in his hand, enjoying the warmth of it. Looking back at the wandmaker, he asked, "Should I try another?"

Ollivander replaced the wand in its box and handed it to him. "Oh, no, my boy. Mr Demirci there—" he ignored Dean's murmured correction "—will have to try the others. They all have unicorn hairs from the same unicorn. But this wand has the tail feather of a phoenix as its core. A phoenix that has only ever given one other feather."

He paused and Harry shrugged. "So where's the wand with that feather?"

Ollivander frowned and looked to Aymler, who shrugged as well. Seeing no help from the only other adult in the room, he reached out and gently lifted Harry's fringe. "That wand, my dear boy, was the wand that gave you that scar."

Harry's eyes opened wide in shock at that revelation. Hermione broke off admiring her wand with the others and moved back to his side. "What do you mean, sir?"

Ollivander appeared nonplussed at Harry's reaction and her question. "You mean you don't know? You don't know your own history?"

"We were told his parents died in a car accident," Aymler growled. "If you have more information than that, please share."

"I…it's really not my place…it should be Dumbledore…" Ollivander moved behind his table and began stacking wand boxes almost frantically.

Harry stepped forward as he retreated. "Sir, please? What do you know?"

"I don't know any more than anyone else. I'm not...really not the right person. I just make wands!"

Hermione realized that their doctor was on the verge of losing his temper, Harry was lost in confusion, and Ollivander looked ready to vanish behind his curtain and hope they left his shop. She jumped in. "Please, sir, if you don't feel comfortable telling us, is there some way for us to find out for ourselves? Is there a library or newspaper office?"

Ollivander seized her offer gratefully. "The incident would actually be in a number of books over at Flourish and Blotts…any book covering recent wizarding history."

Hermione nodded and looked up at Aymler. "I think we'll find it in one of the extra books I bought, Doctor."

He glanced around, at Harry's pale face and the nervous expressions on the other children, and made himself relax. "I think I'll start looking. I'll send in your dad, Hermione." He left the shop.

Ollivander busied himself with helping Dean find his wand. Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and led him to the tight little knot the others had formed. "Sorry about that. Dr Aymler is kind of protective of us and especially Harry since he's an orphan."

Justin smiled first. "I understand protective. Nannies can be quite bothersome that way as well."

Sally-Anne leaned in. "How did you pull those wands to you? It's like you knew what you were doing!"

Hermione blushed a little. "I wouldn't say we **know** what we're doing, but Harry, Dean and I all stay at the same institute. We've been able to practice a lot and learn how to do some things. For example, close your eyes a minute and just concentrate on how this place feels." One by one, the others followed her instructions.

"You know that part of you in your head that feels like a balloon getting bigger, just before your make something happen? See if you can reach out with it, feel with it. It's kind of like the air before a big storm, a bit tingly."

Next to her Sally-Anne let out a soft "oh". Both Justin and Wayne straightened their posture as they sensed something.

"Now, do you feel like something is pulling at that part of yourself? Try to reach out and answer it."

Terry's hand floated up toward the shelves.

Their eyes flew open and they jumped out of the way as seven boxes soared toward Terry, who laughed in astonishment.

The wandmaker looked up from stacking Dean's rejects. "Well, then. This may set a record for fastest wand-shopping by a Muggleborn group in the history of Ollivander's."

* * *

Patrick sat with Viola Granger as Robert rapidly finished his ice cream and got up to go to the wand shop. He dug through Hermione's parcel of books until he found the history ones. With the efficiency of an experienced researcher, he checked each book for an index and ran his eye down the Ps. He found three books with Harry's name in them and took a look at the titles. _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Modern Magical History._

It was the third title that sent a chill down his spine.

_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._

Patrick opened the book and began to read.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading! Look for the next chapter in about a month.


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

**_3 August 1991_**

The parents sat up and pushed empty ice cream dishes to the side as the children came down the street from Ollivander's, talking excitedly. Terry ran forward to his parents. "Look! Actual magic wands!" Several of the children unwrapped the long, thin boxes from their parcels, pulled out the wands, and began waving them, filling the air with glittery showers.

Hermione noticed that Harry had gone straight to Dr Aymler, who had one of her new books open. He looked up and pulled Harry to him in a half-hug, shutting the book. "I found something. We'll take a closer look when we get back."

Harry nodded and moved over to Viola, who had the cage with his owl. He had just stuck his fingers in for her to preen against when a loud noise sounded, like the crack of a rifle, and Albert Clott appeared, still resplendent in his bright uniform and shiny buttons.

He strode toward Terry and Justin, who were mock-fighting with their wands, brandishing them as if they were swords, and sending sparkling lights everywhere. Hermione heard him mutter as he passed, "Every single time. There's always at least one stupid Muggleborn who doesn't listen." In a louder voice, he scolded, "Put those away at once! You are not to touch those wands until you are at Hogwarts. All it takes is one Muggle catching sight of you doing magic and then the Ministry of Magic has to spend time and resources sending in the Obliviators…oh, do put those away! Every time you cast a spell outside of Ollivander's or Hogwarts, you set off alarms!" He held up something that looked like an ornate watch fob. Before their eyes, the angry red glow it gave off began to fade.

Hermione frowned and glanced at Harry. He nodded and she stepped forward. "Pardon me, Mr Clott. No one said not to use our wands. We didn't mean to cause trouble."

Clott turned to face her, slightly calmed by her humble tone. "You mean Mr Ollivander didn't give you instructions?"

"No, sir. He was distracted when Harry got his wand."

Clott brightened. "That makes sense. I've certainly been the talk of the Ministry this afternoon for escorting you all here. Why, even Junior Undersecretary Umbridge herself stopped me to talk…" As the liaison got lost in his tale, Harry edged behind him and waved to Dean. He pointed at Dean's wand, still in its box, and mimed waving it. Dean winked and began unwrapping his wand. Harry concentrated on Clott's shoes.

Slowly, the shoelaces loosened, the ends falling to the cobblestones. When Clott showed no sign of noticing, Harry looked at Hermione. She was watching Clott's detector and shook her head very slightly. Harry then nodded to Dean, who had gotten his wand. Dean swung his arm, looking casual, but the wand still threw out sparks. Clott jumped and grabbed the detector, once more glowing red.

"Please! Please put your wands away and keep them away until you are at Hogwarts! This is the rule you must obey as part of being a young witch or wizard! No magic outside of school until you are of age!"

At this point most of the adults began taking the wands, putting them back in their boxes. Hermione, still facing Clott, gave one of her little curtsies. "Thank you for telling us, sir." Clott smiled and patted her head. She resisted the urge to make a face as Harry and Dean both turned away to keep from laughing.

Her father approached. "Since you're here anyway, I believe we are all done with our errands. Could you escort us back to that pub and send us home?"

Clott looked around at everyone, loaded with parcels. "Really? Done already? It usually takes hours with a group this large, especially at Ollivander's."

"We got lucky," Hermione said, helping her parents gather her things.

"Lucky, indeed. Well, there's no need to go back through the pub. I have everyone's tickets to the Hogwarts Express and portkeys back to everyone's destination." He began handing the tickets out and paused. "I see we're short one."

Harry answered, "Kevin Entwhistle and his mum have decided on the other school. They went to talk to them."

Clott beamed, "Thank you, Harry. May I call you Harry? So exciting to meet you at last. That's very helpful of you. I'll stop by and check in with them. Now, you were the very large group, correct? Here's a nice long scarf, should be easy for everyone to grab on to. Have you got a good grip on your supplies? Everyone have the scarf? Hold on, then!" He touched the end of the scarf with his wand and commanded, "_Portus!_"

The invisible line yanked through them all, depositing them in a conference room that suddenly felt much too small with people, parcels, and protesting owls everywhere.

* * *

Dr Aymler sent for Pippa to help the kids sort their purchases. As Hermione stacked potion phials, her telescope, and scales into her cauldron, she suddenly smacked her forehead. "We completely forgot about trunks! They weren't on the list!"

Viola, refolding the robes, looked over. "We were going back next week anyway. We can take Harry and Dean as well and get trunks for all three of you. Robert, you might call the other families and remind them. Perhaps we could even meet up at that ice cream shop again. They had the most amazing sundaes."

Dean looked up from flipping through _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. "You all traded numbers?"

Robert held up his address book. "While you were in the last shop, we talked. It turns out that none of us were given any clue at all about the existence of magic. No contact of any sort while the poor kids were experiencing these incidents and practically becoming recluses while the parents got more and more frantic. I'm not sure yet who to complain to, but there has to be someone in their government who can see the problem."

Andrea took the box holding Dean's wand. "I think we'll hang onto this, just to be safe."

Dean waved a hand in easy agreement. "No problem. Put it on the top shelf in your clothes cupboard where you hide our Christmas gifts. No one else can reach it but us three."

As his parents stared at him in unhappy surprise, Hermione handed her box to her mother. "Here's mine."

Harry dug around for his and held it out to Dr Aymler. He took it and looked at the three of them. "You're taking that pompous idiot's orders?"

Harry shrugged. "We don't need them. We tried something at the café. That detector of his only works if magic happens with a wand. I untied his shoes and he never noticed a thing. But Dean waving his wand around got his attention."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "We can keep practicing what we do while we wait for September."

The parents traded looks, then turned to the doctor for his opinion. "Well, they've been learning all along without any major trouble. I don't see a problem as long as they continue to be careful. After all, it would appear that they're at a disadvantage compared to the other students, not having known that magic existed before."

With that, the adults released the owls through a window and Pippa arranged to store everything in a cupboard up on the first floor, where the children were not permitted. She took one set of textbooks and the extra history books to find covers for hiding the titles so the trio could start reading them.

Dean and Hermione followed their parents, who were ready to pack up from their overnight stay and return to their homes. Harry was about to follow them when Dr Aymler stopped him.

"I need to show you what that wand person was talking about. I'll get the books when Pippa's covered them. Meet me in my office after dinner?"

Harry nodded, realizing that whatever the story was, it must be something huge.

* * *

At dinner, Hermione had the camouflaged _The Standard Book of Spells_ propped open while the three of them ate at a corner table, a bit away from most of the residents. She was providing a running commentary. "This one will be useful, _Alohomora_, which is an unlocking spell, and there's a locking spell as well. Oh, here's our floating thing, the Levitation Charm. And look!" She turned the book toward Harry in excitement. "A mending charm! _Reparo_! That's what I did to the kitchen at home!"

Dean read the page, trying to sound out the strange words. "How is that pronounced? Wing-AR-dee-yum Lev-EYE-oh-sa?"

Hermione shook her head. "It looks like a lot of these words are from Latin. That would make it Lev-ee-OH-sa."

"Where'd you learn Latin, then?" Dean asked, making his fork hover a few centimetres over his plate with one finger.

"One of my teachers from before. She had a positive mania for building words from Latin and Greek roots."

"So tell me this. If we're able to do all of these things on our own with a bit of practice, why are we suddenly being told that there's no magic done away from the school and we have to actually wave wands around and say silly Latin things to make it happen?"

Hermione twisted a lock of hair around her fingers. "Well, I'm not sure. But I get the feeling that maybe…we're doing things differently from what's expected. Remember how shocked Ms McGonagall was when we stopped her from using her wand? And how she didn't try anything at all when she didn't have it? I mean, if we didn't have each other to talk to and compare notes with, what would we have done when the letters came?"

Dean nodded. "I get you. We'd've gone along with whatever they said, including the notion that you've got to have a wand to do these things correctly."

Hermione looked over at their third member. "Harry? All right there?"

Harry had taken the book and was scanning the list of spells in the contents. While Hermione had been concentrating on things she recognised as what they could do, he had noticed some other spells with more sinister effects. _Incendio_ was for making fire, which could be helpful or dangerous depending on the situation. He was also unsure about _Diffindo_, or the Severing Charm. It was all too easy to imagine the thing being severed as a finger or hand…

He tried to drive such thoughts from his head when Hermione addressed him. "Sorry, just looking at all of these results that they have a name for. Seems awfully complicated. I mean, just imagine what you want to happen, concentrate on it, and it happens." He waved his hand slightly and the empty chair at their table slid back on its own. "No wand, no funny words." He stood, handing the book back to Hermione and gathering his dishes. "Dr Aymler wanted to see me. He found what Mr Ollivander was talking about."

Hermione leaned over the table and snagged his hand. "Dean and I'll wait for you if you want to talk about it after."

Harry nodded and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I know. See you later."

* * *

Patrick had left messages for Emily and Pippa to meet in his office for dinner and for Pippa to bring the extra books from Flourish and Blotts. Emily arrived with loaded plates from the canteen and Pippa followed her with the books.

Patrick pulled out the three books he remembered and handed one to each of them. "Check the index for the right pages, then read what they say about Harry. I want to compare them and see where they all agree."

They began reading and eating, but gradually left the food to grow cold as they read and traded books and made notes. Patrick spread their jottings on the table.

"So, what ties in is the following: this evil lord person, who is apparently so bad that they won't print his real name, was going around and killing lots of people, not just magical people. He targeted Harry's parents and killed them on 31 October, 1981, with something called the Killing Curse. It's assumed but not proven that he tried to use the same curse on Harry, but somehow Harry repelled it and—poof!—the evil guy was no longer a threat. Harry is famous throughout magical Europe for being the only known person to survive this curse and is tagged as The Boy Who Lived." Patrick leaned back and rubbed his hands across his face. "Christ in a teacup, every time we think we have a handle on Harry's situation, something else up and smacks us in the gob."

Pippa was looking through _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. "Here, this one actually gives us the bad guy's name, but only the very first time he's mentioned. He was known as Lord Voldemort, but called either the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who. I suppose they think there's something to that old fairy-tale notion of names having power. Since that _Modern Magical History_ writer quotes some official called the 'Supreme Mugwump' as speculating that Voldemort is banished but not dead, I guess people just don't want to take the chance of saying his name lest they get his attention."

Emily held out _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. "Did you see this illustrated faceplate in the centre of this one? The artist tried to draw Harry as a toddler with that zigzag scar on his forehead. The caption claims it's the only evidence left that Harry was attacked by this guy and calls it a 'curse scar'. I'm rather relieved that Harry likes to keep his fringe long to hide it—I get the feeling that you were very lucky only the wand artist recognized him, otherwise you could've been dealing with a mob."

Patrick grimaced. "Is it safe for him to go back this weekend with the others for his trunk?"

Emily looked down at the illustration again. "Frankly, I'm having second thoughts about this entire school thing, period. Bad enough that the kids were left in the dark all their lives about having this power. How much worse will it be for Harry to deal with this kind of notoriety, this **reverence** people have for him over something he doesn't even remember happening? How many of those students will be trying to become his new best friend and push Hermione and Dean out? And since we know Harry won't stand for that, what if they turn on him?" She shut the book. "I know she wasn't telling us everything, but I'd like to talk to that McGonagall woman again. I honestly feel we don't have enough information to decide, now that we know this."

Before the others could reply, there was a knock at the door. Patrick glanced at his watch. "That should be Harry now." He raised his voice and called, "Come in."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! And thanks for your patience as I got through the last couple of months of work. With a little luck and some fast beta-ing I should be back to my biweekly schedule now.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

**News**: Hopefully I'll be back to twice a month for the foreseeable future.

A reader has very kindly begun translating this story into Polish. If that's your language for everyday use, please check out "Niebezpieczeństwa niewinności" under the name Shaunee Altman here on FF-dot-net.

I have begun translating this story into Spanish and will probably do so with other things I've written. I have no schedule for when chapters will be uploaded at this time other than "when I finish one". Feedback on vocabulary use, slang phrases, and sentence structure is welcome. Check my profile page for "Los peligros de la inocencia".

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* * *

**_3 August 1991_**

As Harry left, Dean pushed his plate away. "Hermione, would you help me with something?"

She looked up and closed the book. "Of course."

"You're really good at reading stuff and seeing little things and all. Would you help me go through the papers from Gringotts? I didn't want to make my mum and da do it, it seemed like they weren't ready to talk about my first father."

Hermione nodded, remembering how shattered Andrea Thomas had looked as they left the bank. "'Course I will. Your room or mine?"

"Mine. That way we'll know when Harry's done."

Once in Dean's room, Hermione commandeered the desk and opened a notebook to a blank page. Dean flattened the roll of papers carefully to keep from mixing the pieces up, using books and his art case to anchor the corners.

Hermione looked at the first one. "This is the will, with a sealed letter to you. The will is dated 15 March 1981. There's a note on it that looks like it was burned into the paper: 'The will of Alexander Ibrahim Demirci was enacted on 8 April 1981. Heir named in will not yet of an age to manage affairs.' And there's a second note: 'Dean Khamisi Demirci arrived on 3 August 1991 to claim his inheritance; vault reopened.' Well, then." She set the parchment down. "So the goblins knew you existed but were waiting on you to be of age, whatever age it is they wait for." She handed the letter to Dean, who turned it over in his hands.

"I think I'm scared to open it."

She gave him a concerned look. "Why?"

"Maybe it's daft, but I always knew who I was before today. Dean Randall Thomas, son of Geoffrey and Andrea, big brother to a pack of annoying kids, good at drawing. Even learning I could do magic didn't really change all that." Hermione nodded in full understanding as he spoke.

"And now…I don't really know who this Dean Khamisi Demirci is. Would I still draw? Would I still like footie, even if I never became a West Ham supporter? Or would I be learning how to make wands in Africa and playing that broom sport we saw the shop for?"

Hermione reached over and gripped his shoulder. "I understand. But no matter what, you'll always be the Dean that's sitting here. Yes, you'll've learned more about where you came from, but that won't change who you are because you're the one living your life. Harry and I will still be your friends, no matter what."

Drawing a deep breath, Dean broke the seal and opened the letter.

_15 March 1981_

_To Dean Khamisi Demirci:_

_My dearest son, I hope with all my heart that you never see these words. I hope that I will be able to get you and your mother safely out of Britain and somewhere where we can live in peace and watch you grow. You've just turned a year old, a wonderful year which has filled my life and your mother's life with joy. But the darkness is spreading and I don't know how much longer I can avoid it. I have hidden my marriage from the wizading world and left your mother unaware of magic in the hopes of protecting you both and I only hope she will forgive me when I tell her, after we are out of their reach._

_If the worst happens, know this: the wizard known as Voldemort and his so-called Death Eaters are beings of purest evil. Their agenda is to cleanse the earth of every last non-magical human and to turn first-generation magicals and other wizards and witches of mixed breeding into a slave class. Because I am able to cite my lineage back a few hundred years and because I have resources, they have fastened onto me as someone to recruit. And at this point, anyone recruited by him either joins him or dies._

_If you are reading this, my beloved child, know that I tried my best. If I have to, I will draw them away from you and Andrea and accept my fate, taking down as many of them with me as I can. Know that I love you both more than anything on this earth._

_Your father,_

_Alexander Demirci_

Dean let the letter fall into his lap, unable to force words past the lump in his throat. Hermione had a handkerchief ready and pressed it into his hands as the tears began to fall.

* * *

Harry entered the room and took in the sight of the doctors and Pippa, seated behind plates of half-eaten food and a small pile of books. His eyes widened, unaccustomed to seeing such a mess in either of the doctors' offices. Then he registered the worried looks on their faces. Instinctively he went to Pippa, who put her arm around him and tucked him in close.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"Yes, but probably not in the way you think." Dr Aymler opened one of the books. "The short version is that there was a criminal, something like a cross between a serial killer and a mob boss. He was known as Lord Voldemort. He had a pack of followers known as 'Death Eaters' and, by the time you were born, they had the rest of the wizards living in fear.

"The books aren't clear why, but he targeted your parents. They went into hiding, staying in some tiny village, and set up a lot of magic barriers to try and stay hidden. But one of the barriers failed and he found you and your parents on Halloween of 1981. The books all agree that he killed your dad first, that your dad tried to protect you and your mum. Then he followed your mum upstairs to your room and killed her. But when he tried to kill you, too, something went wrong with the spell. He died, or at least vanished, and you survived with only that lightning-bolt scar on your forehead."

Feeling him tremble, Pippa began rubbing Harry's back, trying to soothe him as Aymler continued.

"Because the magic he used to try and kill you was thought to be unstoppable, you were hailed as an instant hero, called the Boy Who Lived. Some stuffed shirt with a lot of titles is credited with sending you off to live with your Muggle family." He slammed the book shut as he spit out the last sarcastic words. "And besides the fact you were sent to live with people who were obviously ill-equipped and unprepared to raise you, the fact that all of these books stop right there makes the whole thing stink like the Victorian Thames. There's not a whisper of what happened to the rest of these 'Death Eaters'. Not a word about trying to figure out how this Voldemort found your parents. Nothing. It's the perfect setup for a legend. And I really don't like the thought that these people need a legend to hold them together."

Harry shrank even further into Pippa's arms, afraid of the doctor's display of temper as much as the thought he was about to voice. "Should I not go to the school?"

Patrick realized what he had done and was instantly down on his knees beside Harry. "Now hold on, it's much too soon to say that. But these books raise a lot more questions than answers. I think when we go back to get your trunks we should also visit the bookstore again and ask for more information. Or we can try sending your owl to the professor. Tell her we've read a few things about you and need more information." He reached over to pull Harry into a hug and, reassured, Harry let him.

Emily reached for one of the books that had a mailer from a pharmaceutical company stuck in it to mark a page. "Hey, want to see something?" She opened the book and turned it around for Harry. His mouth dropped open.

There was a picture in an old-fashioned sepia tone. In the back of his mind Harry noticed that the people in the picture were moving, but that took second place to his recognition of them. The man looked almost exactly like a grown-up Harry, from his messy black hair to a pair of glasses on his nose to a little sideways grin that looked very familiar to the doctors. The woman had long hair and light eyes that were probably the same brilliant green as Harry's. They were holding a baby who smiled and laughed as they cuddled and kissed him.

"Is that…is that them? My mum and dad?" He looked at the caption below.

_James and Lily Potter with the Boy Who Lived, about 9 months old – April 1981_

Harry touched the photo and whether it was something in the magic making the photo move or coincidence, the woman raised her had to wave right where Harry's fingers grazed it. The adults looked on as it appeared that Harry and his mother were reaching to each other through the page. Then the baby in the photograph suddenly waved both arms like windmills and knocked his father's glasses askew. The people gazing at the page laughed along with the subjects in the photograph.

"I doubt they'll keep moving, but we can photocopy that picture for you to keep," Patrick offered. "We should also ask those goblins about any family pictures in the vault they mentioned, or records of friends who might have photographs. We're also going to alert the social workers on Monday and ask her to try tracing your parents and see if there's a will or burial site, anything accessible on this side. That's something else to include in your note to Ms McGonagall, asking for more information about what happened to your parents."

Harry nodded. "Can I take the book for now?" Emily closed it with the flyer bookmarking the photo and handed it to him. He left the room, clutching it to his chest.

* * *

After Dean had got hold of himself, he and Hermione began working their way through the stack of papers. Each one had another revelation and Hermione paused frequently to allow Dean to take it all in. There were lists of cash assets in galleons, sickles, and knuts. There were lists of jewellery, art pieces, magical artefacts, and books. The final list detailed three properties: a house in Northants, a second house in Morocco, and a property deep in central Africa that seemed to be a plantation for magical herbs and a continuing source of income for the estate.

The final page was a family tree. As his father had written, it dated back through several centuries. But Hermione noticed that, starting between the two world wars, the number of branches began diminishing as families died off. When she began seeing whole groups with the same year of death, she bit her lip. The last three generations were conclusive, with Dean's magical grandfather, father and himself being only children. Dean was the only living member of the Demirci family according to the record.

She thought of Harry. Orphaned Harry, whose only known relatives were an aunt and uncle who weren't magical. Another child who might be the last person in his family. She was suddenly desperate for Harry's meeting to be over since that would mean that the history books were available. Something huge had happened in recent history that was killing off wizards. She needed to know what it was. She needed to know if it would be safer to stay out of this world of wonders.

As if she had called him, Harry appeared in the door. He had a book clasped to him as if it were a life preserver. Hermione shot to her feet and ran to hug him. "Is everything all right?"

"Sort of. We found out what happened to my parents. They were killed by an evil wizard who was trying to wipe us all out." Harry opened the book to a marked page and showed them the photograph.

"Wicked! The pictures move!" Dean stared, entranced, as the family in the photo waved.

Hermione cooed, "Oh, Harry, you look just like your dad!" She also stared at the page, appreciating the rakishly handsome man. After a moment of indulging herself with a mental image of Harry as an adult, she refocused. "What did the books say?"

"As I said, some evil wizard lord was after my family. He killed my dad when he tried to hold him off, then my mum who had tried to run with me. But when he tried to kill me, too, something happened and he died or disappeared. That's where my scar came from." Harry gestured vaguely to his forehead.

That prompted Hermione to hug him again and Dean gave him a sympathetic punch to the shoulder. "Sounds familiar. We found a letter from my father to me. The only difference is that he kept magic a secret from my mum managed to draw the Volde-wart guy away from us."

Hermione staggered as Harry whipped around in her arms to face Dean. "Voldemort?"

"Yeah, that was the name." Dean plucked the letter from the pile of records and held it out.

Harry scanned the letter, then sat on the bed and began flipping frantically through the book. Hermione stopped him. "Here, use the back." She opened to the index and ran a finger down the list of names until she found _Harry Potter_. "Start on page three hundred fifty-eight."

The three of them crowded around, reading the first few paragraphs of a chapter that described a being so terrible that only a few of the bravest wizards around dared defy him. As the prose grew more and more lurid, Hermione frowned. "This reads like a novel, not a history book. Are the other history books just as bad?"

"I don't know. They're in Dr Aymler's office still, I think."

Hermione shot out the door. "Be right back!"

Dean looked at Harry and managed a chuckle. "That's our girl."

* * *

Hermione found the doctors still in Aymler's office, clearing the table they had used. Aymler smiled as the girl rushed to the door, then managed to stop herself and tap on the jamb. Her tone was breathless from sprinting. "May I come in?"

"Of course. What has you running through the halls?" His hint of her breaking a rule made her cheeks turn slightly pink, but Hermione stood her ground.

"May I have the other history books? We need to see if they have better information."

"Why?"

"That name, that Voldemort, there was a letter from Dean's father, his birth father. He wrote it when Dean was a year old. He was trying to get Dean and his mum out of Britain because the evil wizard was after him. We wanted to look at the other books and see if they had a better description; the one Harry had seemed awfully…"

"Hysterical?" Dr Greene suggested dryly.

Hermione nodded, relieved that an adult shared her criticism. "May we see the others?"

"Of course." Dr Aymler handed them to her. "I'll walk back with you. It'll be time for lights-out soon and I'd like to see that letter."

They arrived to find Harry and Dean next to Dean's window, looking through the glass at the two owls perched on the nearest tree. The windows on the ground floor of the building were designed for security and only a small top pane opened to allow fresh air through a screen.

Harry turned to Dr Aymler. "How are we going to use our owls? We're not supposed to be out after dinner and during the day the other kids might start noticing the owls around the tree fort."

As Dr Aymler considered that issue, Hermione brightened. "What about upstairs? The windows on the first floor open, you let the owls out when we got back!"

He looked at the three excited faces, considering the pros and cons of moving the three of them to the emptier upstairs wing. The pros included the fact that these three children weren't the kind of security risk that required locked windows and that the Grangers and Thomases would almost certainly not object. The three of them might be leaving in a few weeks and gone for months at a time. It would free up three rooms for new residents. On the con side, it might cause some jealousy among other residents, especially the older ones, but the practicalities of the situation would speak for themselves. The doctors had already planned a cover story of a scholarship to a boarding school for Harry and if they did leave for the school Hermione and Dean could simply "go home".

"The biggest problem I see is the fact that we usually keep the door between the floors locked and I don't feel comfortable about you three having keys."

Dean looked over at Hermione. "Didn't you find something that locks and unlocks in the book of spells?"

"Yes! I'll be right back!"

"Walk!" Aymler called after her. He turned his attention to the boys. "Well, while we're waiting, Harry, you could write your note. Ask Ms McGonagall if she can come talk to us some more about your parents, about what happened to them, and if we can find any information about a will, that sort of thing."

Dean waved at the pile of parchment on his desk. "The bank had my dad's will. Harry might have one in his papers."

"All right, then the backstory on your parents and our concerns about this legend that seems to have built up around you. Tell her we're concerned that you won't be able to concentrate on studying if people are constantly paying attention to you over something you don't even remember. Ask if she can come tomorrow or one evening this week. Then the two of you might as well start packing up what you can. One way or another I expect we'll put you upstairs at least for a few weeks and see what happens. If nothing else, we can touch up these rooms, do something with the windows, and move you back."

Further commentary was halted as Hermione trotted back into the room, breathless once more.

* * *

**_4 August 1991_**

Following a successful demonstration of locking and unlocking the door with a hand by each of the children, the staff swung into action on Sunday. Pippa and Mary helped air out empty rooms in the wing used for conference rooms and berths for any staff needed to spend the night. Dr Greene recruited from a local voluntary organization and got the furniture shifted. By tea time, the three were mostly settled. Harry and Dean were on one side, sharing an en suite between them. Hermione was across the hall from Harry.

Dr Aymler had taken over the conference room on the other side of Hermione's bath with the plans for the security cameras, adding the need for one more hall camera on the newly-inhabited wing. It would be cheap enough to add it with the rest even if it were never needed, but if the kids were still here a few years from now or they used the rooms for other residents in special circumstances, it would be in place. The company they had hired was due to begin work on Tuesday.

After dinner, as Harry was taking out his collection of motorcycles and replacing them on their shelves, his snowy owl flew in through the open window, a parchment scroll tied to her leg. She landed on the back of a chair and held still while Harry untied the scroll. "Thank you, girl. I guess you need a name. I saw one when I was looking through my book for History of Magic. What do you think of 'Hedwig'?"

The owl bobbed her head and Harry laughed. "So, Hedwig it is. Glad you like it."

Dean, hearing Harry's voice, came through the en suite. "Naming yours after a magic person?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm naming mine Picasso. He's got that sort of mad artist look in his eye." Dean waved at the parchment. "What does she say?"

Harry unfurled the scroll and read it over. "She can be here tomorrow evening at eight o'clock."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for reading!


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

**Reminder**: I'm on Twitter under "avidbeader" if you are reading this on a guest account and would prefer to get your notifications of a new chapter that way. I promise I won't be spamming.

**Gratitude**: I noticed when I was looking at something else that I've cracked the 2,000 mark in followers and am closing on 1,500 favorites. Yes, I know some of you do both, but still. Those weren't numbers I was expecting to reach when I began posting this story. Thanks to each and every one of you for reading, whether you review or not.

* * *

**_5 August 1991_**

This time Minerva McGonagall was prepared. In a show of fairness that she hoped did not backfire, she had brochures from the other magical schools in Britain for the children to consider. She had also looked through her photographs and collected a handful showing Lily and James Potter to give to Harry. This time her tweed suit was navy; even though she had been given permission to Apparate directly into the same conference room that had been used before, she felt better for trying to blend in just in case she were spotted by someone at the institute.

Knowing that she might be heard arriving, Minerva took a moment to compose herself and remember the three D's—deliberation, determination, destination—before vanishing from outside the Hogwarts gate. Her arrival was heralded by a softer _pop_ than usual.

The room was empty, but as soon as she appeared the door opened and the same woman who had guided her before entered. Minerva was impressed; the Muggles certainly seemed to be doing their part to maintain the Statute of Secrecy within the institute.

"If you'll follow me, Professor, we've moved the children to upstairs rooms nearby for extra privacy, so they can have access to the owls. There's a conference room next to Hermione's room that is set up." Minerva followed her down the hall, impressed again. If these were the steps taken by the staff in their first weeks of awareness of the wizarding world, then she would be able to work with them very easily. She had not had this experience since working with Ted Tonks and his parents. The Tonks family had been very sensible people.

They found Patrick and Emily sitting at the table with a pile of books sporting bookmarks. It would seem that they had bought more than just the required textbooks. Now Minerva saw what had prompted Harry's note. She joined them at the table, reaching into her bag for what she had brought.

"I have here information from the other schools I mentioned. I would truly love for Harry and his friends to come to Hogwarts, but I will understand and support you if decide that a smaller school is best."

Patrick took the pamphlets, a bit surprised at the professor's helpful attitude. "Thank you. We'll look these over. Did you include anything from Hogwarts?"

"No, we've never had any kind of material to hand out, but there is a book, _Hogwarts, A History_, if you didn't find a copy already when you visited Diagon Alley. Now, I understand from Harry's letter that he wanted to know more about his parents. Will he be joining us?"

"Today was the usual pool-and-pizza outing for the children. We knew when we pushed them to take part that they might be late back, but if they're about to leave for school, wherever said school is, they won't have many more opportunities to swim and play with their friends."

"That is true. There is a lake on the grounds at Hogwarts, but we are so far to the north that it never gets warm enough for swimming without Warming Charms. And besides, there's the giant squid and merpeople—"

"Giant squid? Merpeople? As in mermaids?" Emily interrupted. "You mean to say that mermaids are real?"

Minerva nodded. "Naturally they keep to themselves, but our colony has been quite open to working with the occasional student or visitor who wishes to make a study of them. The headmaster has been able to maintain excellent relations with them."

"Any other unusual beings we should be aware of?" Patrick asked, trying to relax the situation with a joke.

Minerva began counting on her fingers. "There are the goblins, of course, who run Gringotts. There are werewolves, though they stay mostly in the muggle world. It's rather hard for them to find work, though I've heard rumours of a breakthrough in a potion that helps them keep their minds when they transform at the full moon so they won't attack anyone. Vampires and giants aren't anything to worry about since there are no colonies of them in Britain, but we do have a herd of centaurs that live in the forest next to Hogwarts."

Patrick and Emily traded wide-eyed looks, feeling very out of their depth again.

Minerva tried to reassure them. "Truly, there is very little to fear from the magical races. There's more danger in running across a stray dragon or manticore, but we have a department in the Ministry focused on regulating and controlling such creatures."

Not very comforted, Patrick tried to steer the conversation back to the intended topic. "We were reading through some of the books Hermione bought, trying to get a better picture of your society, and we found these stories of what happened to Harry's parents. He knew nothing of this; he'd been told by his aunt and uncle that his parents died in a car crash. It wasn't until the wand person recognized him that we realized there was more to tell. It turns out that Harry is hugely famous in your world for something that he doesn't even remember happening."

Emily flapped a hand at the books. "You do understand why we're worried, don't you?"

Minerva nodded as she eyed _Modern Magical History_, grimacing. To her mind, a better title would have been _Modern Magical Myths_, given its penchant for focusing on the most sensational aspects of the events it recounted. It was the only one to put in print Albus' idea that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might still be around in some form.

"I've been more and more worried myself as the time for Harry to come to Hogwarts has drawn near. It hasn't been long enough for our world to lose their view of him as some kind of saviour or the second coming of Merlin. Children in our world grow up on the idea of the Boy Who Lived. There are whole series of books about him having the most ridiculous adventures. Toymakers have 'Harry Potter' dolls, wands and brooms. And they haven't had any hint of the reality of Harry himself, thanks to the headmaster hiding him away." She shook her head, a hint of tears gathering in her eyes. "I think my biggest regret in life will be not standing up to Albus that night when he said he was going to leave Harry with those people. I told him they were the worst sort of Muggles around, but he insisted that they were the only family he had left and that Harry needed to grow up away from such fame."

"Not a completely unsound idea," Patrick observed.

"But to leave him with those awful people! And now you tell me that Harry was completely in the dark about his parents. To not know that they were murdered, to not know about You-Know-Who or Sirius Black or any of it…it's inexcusable!"

Emily frowned. "Who's Sirius Black"?

Minerva blinked, focusing on her. "He's Harry's godfather. He's the one who betrayed James and Lily to You-Know-Who. Here," Minerva suddenly remembered the packet of photographs and pulled them out. "These are for Harry to keep. I found what pictures I could of his parents." She shuffled through them and found one. It was a group photo showing the same couple from the picture the doctors had found with four other boys and another girl. They all looked to be around eighteen years old and waved merrily, mugging for the camera.

"The boy with the long dark hair is Sirius Black. He and James Potter were best friends, along with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. The other couple is the Longbottoms. When Harry was born, Black and Alice Longbottom were named godparents. Naturally when the Potters had to go into hiding, they entrusted Black with the secret of where they were. But he must have already gone over to Voldemort's side and because of him the Potters died on that Halloween. He was captured by Aurors and sent to Azkaban Prison after being tracked down by Pettigrew. He caused an explosion that killed Pettigrew and a dozen innocent bystanders."

Patrick frowned. "That sounds like something that should have been in one of these books. The aftermath of their deaths. The arrest and trial. Do you know of another book that would have that information?"

Minerva opened her mouth, then paused as she considered. "There should have been…but…I'm not sure he had a trial, now you've said that."

"Lovely," Patrick growled. "Your communications system with new magic users is non-existent until they turn an arbitrary age, you assume far too much when dealing with non-magical people, and now you throw people in prison without proof?"

"No, not at all!" Minerva snapped back. "We have trials! We collect evidence; we can detect what spells a wand has cast and verify the identity of a body. We also have ways to view a person's memory and a potion that forces a person to speak the truth!"

"But you don't remember this being done for this Sirius Black," Emily said in a gentler tone.

"No. And that's not right. It should have been done, even for an open and shut case such as his. Even Bellatrix Lestrange got a trial after her attack on the Longbottoms." A sudden sense of urgency took hold and Minerva stood. "If I may, I really feel I should talk to someone about this immediately, at least verify whether the trial happened or not."

"This headmaster of yours?" Patrick stood as well.

"No, he's dreadfully busy with the coming school year. I'll get a quicker answer if I check with our Ministry's DMLE—sorry, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I know the head there rather well, Amelia Bones. Her niece is entering Hogwarts this year as well as Harry. I can contact her tonight and at least set up an appointment within the next few days."

Patrick held out a hand and they shook. As Minerva also shook with Emily, she said, "Please do let us know what you find out. Any information we can get will help us make a decision and better prepare the children for September."

"I will." Minerva vanished with a sharp _crack_.

Hearing a few cries of children in the distance, Patrick frowned and turned to Emily. "Have you any idea how much it costs to soundproof a room?"

* * *

**_6 August 1991_**

As she entered her new bedroom, Hermione allowed herself a brief moment to revel in it. The new rooms for all three of them were much larger than those on the ground floor and she now had an extra bookcase ready and waiting to be filled. She also had a table to spread out the handful of paper she carried. The doctors had finally let her have the information about schools that the professor had brought, and she wanted to go over it closely. She knew Harry and Dean had planned to play some footie, so she would have solitude for a short while.

She opened the first brochure, for Wenlock Academy. The cover had a moving illustration of a witch with quite a bit of black hair. She would make notes with a quill on a parchment, then pause and look out over her pince-nez glasses. According to the caption below, she was Bridget Wenlock, famed Arithmancer and discoverer of the magical properties of the number seven.

Inside, the brochure explained that Wenlock had started the academy in the thirteenth century after going through Hogwarts and being highly dissatisfied with the quality of Arithmancy instruction to be found. As such, Arithmancy was a subject taught for seven years, in contrast to it being an elective for third years and above at Hogwarts. It boasted of having students score consistently higher on the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams in the subject when compared to Hogwarts.

At this point Hermione seized a sheet of paper and began making a chart.

After going through the brochures, she felt she had as reasonable a picture she could get of the three schools with what she had. Going by the books they had purchased, it appeared that first year students at Hogwarts had eight subjects. She looked down the list, where she had tried to match book to subject:

- Transfiguration, _Beginner's Guide to_ (taught by Professor McGonagall)

- Potions, _Magical Drafts and Potions_

- History, _A History of Magic_

- Defence, _The Dark Forces_

- Herbology, _One Thousand Magical Herbs_

- Charms, _Standard Book of Spells_ or _Magical Theory?_

- Astronomy, book unknown but telescope on list

- Zoology or "Care of Magical Creatures"?, _Fantastic Beasts_

Other topics mentioned in the brochures for the Wenlock Academy and the Cliodna Conservatory were Ancient Runes, Apparition, Arithmancy, Deportment, Divination, Healing Magic, Flight, Muggle Studies, Political Studies, Scrying, and Warding. It appeared that such subjects were electives at Hogwarts, if they were taught at all. The Wenlock Academy made much of its instruction in Arithmancy as well as boasting of being the only school in the United Kingdom to give serious attention to Warding. The Cliodna Conservatory, located in Ireland, seemed to have an emphasis on Herbology, Potions, and Scrying. It appeared that Hogwarts might have a wider range of topics, but no particular expertise in any of them.

As she looked at the lists, Hermione frowned. She stuffed the brochures in a drawer so the boys could have a look later, then folded her notes so no writing showed. She went downstairs, careful to listen before magically unlocking the door to the ground floor and slipping out to relock it and take the stairs down.

Of the three adults she was looking for, she found Dr Greene first. "Could you help me with something?"

The doctor willingly led her to her therapy room and Hermione spread out her charts on the table. "I've been going over those school brochures to try and compare them. Now, I've written down every single course or subject mentioned anywhere in what I had. Do you see what's missing?"

She studied Hermione's notes. "Well, I see no maths, unless this Arithmancy counts for it. I see no sciences other than this Herbology presumably having some botany and the Astronomy. There's a single history course and it doesn't seem to go over any world history or British history, just magic history. No arts, no music. And I don't see a single language or literature course in the lot."

Hermione wilted in relief. "So I'm not blind. They really don't teach what you need to know to do your GSCEs, much less A Levels."

Dr Greene shook her head. "Not from what I can see. Add that to the things to ask Ms McGonagall when she comes back."

"Or at the offices of these other schools when we go back to get our trunks. But, what will we do if they don't teach us what we need to know? How can I possibly get into a top university without my A Levels?"

"Hermione, stop! That's your mother talking. If I remember correctly, Ms McGonagall said something about arrangements for students who want to go on to uni, though she made it sound like it's rarely done."

"What'll we do? Harry definitely wants to go on to uni and now that he has money, Dean could as well. I have to go to uni if I'm going to do any of the things that I might want to do."

Dr Greene took Hermione's face in her hands and looked in her eyes. "I said to stop. We are not going to worry about this yet, not until we know there's something to worry about. If it turns out to be necessary, we can help put together a tutoring program or support your parents in home education so you can get the necessary instruction. And consider, from what we've seen there's a whole other society out there with its own professions and careers. You might find something on the other side that just captures you heart and soul, in which case you might not need those A Levels or that university."

Hermione scowled. "And never study Shakespeare? Never learn another language? Never try chemistry or algebra? Never have the chance to be a scientist or an M.P. or an author?"

Dr Greene snickered. "You're right. What was I thinking?"

Hermione huffed in indignation.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks as always for reading!


End file.
